Nothing Civil About War
by foobar137
Summary: Dark AU. The Second American Civil War is drawing to a close. Isabella is a biomechanically-enhanced assassin on the losing side. Phineas is a researcher who purchases her at a slave auction in an attempt to make up for the deaths he's caused. Now he's given the job of finding the last enhanced soldier - the person who killed his father - not realizing that he lives with her.
1. Falling Into The Wrong Hands

**Okay, so this one's kind of odd. (And long. Over 50,000 words. One chapter a week. We're going to be here for a while.) I'm not 100% sure where this came from. Suffice it to say this is an extreme AU - to the point where, if I decided to change it to an original story, you might never notice that it was ever fanfic. This is not a light and fluffy story.**

 **Many thanks to Sabrina06 for beta.**

 **Archive warnings: rape/non-con (not explicit). Many characters are dead in backstory as well.**

 **Rated M for violence, language, mature themes including slavery and rape, and non-explicit consensual sexual activity.**

 **Trigger warnings: mention of suicide, death, loss of autonomy, slavery, discussion of triggers, discussion of rape.**

* * *

An explosion shook the building, and the lights flickered. Isabella glanced around and typed faster.

The war was lost, and she knew it. Everyone knew it, but the Southwestern Concord's government still refused to surrender. More people were going to die for their stubbornness, more prisoners enslaved. Isabella's first goal: make sure she wasn't one of them. Enslaved was better than dead, but alive and free was still better.

Gunfire, and the weird _crump_ sound of a tumbler bomb. Getting closer. She'd gambled that she'd be able to finish this before the Central Alliance troops got here, but it was going to be a lot tighter than she'd hoped. _Should have done this yesterday. If only the truck hadn't broken down._

 _Should have gone to a center further from the front, but I didn't realize the front was collapsing this quickly._

She finished typing the command she wanted to run, and sat back to look it over before hitting return. It had taken her almost an hour to break into the primary Concord computer system enough to be able to do this. She confirmed it should do what she needed, took a deep breath, and pressed enter.

The network indicator flashed, and the command prompt came back. She typed a quick command to confirm that it had worked.

 **NO RECORDS FOUND**

She logged out of the computer, smiling as she stood. Project Dewdrop no longer existed. General Maybourne and the scientists had died a couple weeks ago when a tumbler bomb hit their bunker, and all the paper records had been vaporized with them. The rest of her team was gone. Isabella was the only person left, and the last thing she wanted to do was become a lab rat for Central scientists. The Centrals would be looking for Project Dewdrop, but as of now, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro was just another staff sergeant in the Southwestern forces. There were no records left to connect her to Echo Three, the biomechanically-enhanced assassin with over a dozen high-profile kills to her name.

 _Now I just need to stay alive until the cease-fire._

She headed out of the computer room, slipping through the door. The few remaining clerks were quickly packing up what they could. She nodded to a few on the way through, her forged access badge hanging from her uniform.

"Hey, you!" a scared-looking lieutenant called, running a dark brown hand through his short black hair. She looked up at him inquisitively. "Carry this out to the truck." He gestured toward a box of file folders.

"Yes, sir," she said crisply, picking up the box and heading toward the door. It was moderately heavy, but she carried it easily out to the waiting vehicle.

Outside, the sound of gunfire was louder, and seemed to be getting closer. The sun was setting, and the shadows stretched out across the hilly forest surrounding this command center, somewhere in Colorado.

"There," a corporal waved without looking up from the tablet she was using. Isabella dropped the box in the appropriate spot, then jumped out of the truck. Once she was out of sight of the corporal, she slipped around the corner and took off, jogging away from the building, and away from the fighting. She reached the woods and ditched the forged access badge. _Civvies are in the truck._ She was wishing she'd brought them along right now, but she didn't want to risk getting caught in them by Southwestern forces. They'd probably just shoot her on the spot. Desertion was becoming a major problem, and the leadership was cracking down hard.

She was about a hundred yards from the building when she heard the characteristic warbling sound of a tumbler bomb behind her. She'd been told what was known about how it worked - something about tumbling between dimensions - but all she knew was that it shattered the strongest buildings and that people hit by it looked looked like they'd been through a food processor, if there was anything left of the body at all. She took off running, kicking in her implants for extra speed, hoping to get far enough out of the blast radius that it wouldn't hurt her.

A pulse of light behind her was followed by the _crump_ of the bomb, and Isabella was close enough that she could faintly hear the screams of those who had been merely maimed. She slowed back to a jog, hoping that dealing with the people in the building would keep the Centrals busy long enough to let her get back to the truck she'd hidden. Once there, she could get clear from the front. She just had to stay alive, and free, long enough for the surrender, and...

Bright lights came on around her, blinding her in the fading twilight, and she flinched. "Halt," a female voice said. "Surrender, Sweaty. Hands in the air."

 _Shit. So close._ She raised her hands slowly, her eyes adjusting as a young man in Central fatigues came up to her, twisting her arms behind her and fastening her wrists together with a zip-tie. She tested the bonds; her implants would let her shred zip-ties, but the last thing she wanted to do was make it clear to Centrals that anyone from Dewdrop was still alive.

The young man led her to a truck, where a harried-looking captain sat behind a folding desk. "How many more are following you?" the captain asked abruptly.

"Isabella Miriam Garcia-Shapiro, staff sergeant, serial number GIM46231," Isabella stated.

The captain frowned, and said, "One of those, eh? Fine. Corporal, put her with the others."

The corporal pulled on her arm, leading her to a small fenced-in area with about ten other women in Southwestern fatigues sitting on the bare dirt. A similar pen sat about fifty feet away, holding about a dozen men. Guards with assault rifles stood just outside the fence along one side. The zip-tie was cut off, and she was pushed into the pen with the others.

"No talking," one of the guards said.

Isabella sat, her eyes searching for ways to get away. So far, she wasn't finding anything that wouldn't reveal her secret.

* * *

"Call for you from Chicago, Mr. Flynn," Carla said over the intercom. "It's General Archer."

"Thanks, Carla," Phineas said. "I'll take it in here."

The Central Alliance, the true (or at least victorious) successor of the American government, had taken Chicago as its capital. The war had gone on for almost twenty years now, and was finally drawing to a close, in no small part because of the efforts of Phineas and his brother Ferb. Phineas should feel proud of this, he knew, but somehow, he felt a tinge of shame.

The phone rang, and Phineas picked it up. "Flynn," he said.

"Phineas? Archer here," the voice on the other end of the line said, and Phineas rolled his eyes. Archer was such a pain in the ass, but he was their main contact into the military, and therefore the main source of income for Fletcher-Flynn Research.

"What's up, General?" Phineas asked.

"Need your help. We captured a Southwestern control center with its computer core mostly intact, but parts were damaged by a tumbler bomb."

"Not a lot I can do there."

"Can you go take a look, and see if you can...untumble it?"

"That's like unscrambling an egg."

"Just go take a look, okay?"

Phineas sighed. "Fine. Where is it?"

"Colorado. A car will be by to pick you up in an hour."

"It's safe, right?"

"Yes, the front lines have gone about ten miles past now. We've got them on the run, Phineas."

"Ten miles doesn't sound like much."

"It'll probably be twenty by the time you get there. Head out tonight, get some sleep, and then take a look bright and early tomorrow morning."

"Fine. I need to go get ready, General."

"Good man. I look forward to hearing about your progress." A click, and the line went dead.

Phineas took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He stood and walked to the office next door. Unlike Phineas's office, which had blueprints, notebooks, and coffee mugs strewn everywhere, Ferb's was clean and neat. Ferb looked up inquisitively.

"Need to head out to Colorado. General Archer wants me to unscramble an egg."

Ferb looked puzzled.

"A computer got grazed by a tumbler. He wants me to see if I can fix it."

Ferb rolled his eyes.

"I'll probably be gone for a day or two. I'll keep you posted."

Ferb nodded, and shooed him out of the room so he could get back to work.

* * *

Isabella followed the woman in front of her into the empty warehouse that had been designated the "courthouse". The guards had been paying too much attention for her to slip away overnight, and this morning, after she was fed, they'd re-applied the zip-ties. Now, fifty-odd captured soldiers were led in, in two lines, all of them bound similarly. They were led to benches and told to sit; Isabella found herself in the middle of the second row.

A makeshift desk stood in front of them, raised up so that anyone sitting at it would be above their eye level. An dark-skinned MP with close-cropped black hair sat in a chair next to it; she stood and looked out at the assembled prisoners.

"Here's how it's going to go," she said. "You folks are captured traitors. And the law is quite clear on this. We're going to try you all, convict you, and sell your treasonous asses into slavery."

"You can't do that!" one of the men shouted from his bench. "We have rights! The Geneva Convention! The Thirteenth Amend...ah!" His shouts turned to screams as two burly guards grabbed him, threw him to the ground, and started kicking him. Isabella winced at the sounds of their boots hitting him.

"Any other smartasses?" the MP said as the guards heaved the prisoner back onto his bench. His face was bloodied and one eye was swelling shut. Blood was starting to seep through the back of his shirt.

"No?" the MP continued. "To answer your stupid-ass questions: the Geneva Convention doesn't really apply because you fuckers are rebel insurgents, not foreign military. So Geneva just says we have to follow our laws in how we treat you. The Thirteenth doesn't apply to convicted criminals. Guess what? This is your trial, sweaties. Rise for the judge."

Isabella stood, along with most of the rest of the prisoners. A few stragglers stood quickly as the guards headed towards them.

A middle-aged man in fatigues came in and took a seat at the desk. Silver eagles on his collar flashed just below the pale skin of his neck. "Sit down." Isabella sat with the rest. "Bailiff, confirm that everyone's here."

The MP picked up a tablet. "When I call your name, stand up. Adams, Michael." A young man across from Isabella stood, and the MP checked a box. She went through the list; Isabella stood when her name was called. Finally, after "Young, Paul," the MP looked up. "Anybody who I didn't call?" When there was no answer, she turned the the judge and said, "All present and accounted for."

"Excellent. Prosecutor?"

A smiling young Hispanic woman in a dress uniform stepped up. "The usual, your honor. These were all captured in Southwestern uniforms and claimed to be members of the alleged Southwestern military." She handed a folder to the judge. "Testimony is there."

The judge flipped through it briefly, then nodded. "Everything looks in order. Defense?"

A bored-looking young Caucasian man looked at a similar folder. "No defense, your honor."

"Okay." The judge looked at the prisoners. "Any of you who want to plead guilty, sentence will be enslavement for a minimum period of five years. After that, your owner may free you. If they choose." He smiled ferally. "Any of you who want to plead innocent, we'll put you on trial, and when you're found guilty, we'll shoot you. Any takers?"

The prisoners looked around at each other silently.

The bailiff stood up. "Okay. Those of you choosing to plead guilty, please stand and exit through the door to your left. Consider yourself sentenced as described. Those of you wanting to plead innocent, stay right where you are so we can count you and prep the firing squads."

Isabella stood. _Where there's life, there's hope, right?_

* * *

 _I need a drink._

"Stop here, Sergeant," Phineas said to his driver as they passed the next bar he saw, a little place called the Main Street Tavern. She pulled into a parking space and opened the door for him. He went in, taking a seat at the bar as Sergeant Carruthers took up a protective position in the corner. Several people were clustered around a television set showing a football game, St. Louis vs. Chicago, while a couple men in nice suits sat separately at the bar, nursing their drinks. The walls were covered with old Western-style decorations and memorabilia. The bartender, a thin white man with slicked-back brown hair and a pencil moustache, came over to him. "What'll it be?"

"Double scotch, neat," Phineas said, putting a bill on the bar. The man saw the Central currency, nodded, and pulled out a bottle and glass. Pouring out the scotch, he placed it on the bar, made change out of the bill, and headed down the bar to watch the game.

Phineas looked at the scotch, taking a sip and feeling it burn. He'd been out taking a look at the captured command center. The computer was beyond hope; the tumbler bomb had shredded the hardware irreparably. The problem had been getting to it. The computer wasn't the only thing that had been shredded. The troops had cleaned up some of it, but...he'd seen pictures of what tumbler bombs did to humans, but never seen it in person before. He shuddered at the image, tossing the scotch down his throat in hopes of chasing it off.

He waved to the bartender, who came over. "Another."

* * *

They'd locked the electronic collar around her neck, with its tracking device, sensors, and alarms. She was familiar with them; she'd worn fake ones on missions a few times, where they provided useful disguise and access to areas she wouldn't have been allowed near. It was a silvery band with an LCD screen on one side, next to the electronic lock. The collar would be tricky to get off without setting off the alarm, but as soon as she had access to tools, she could manage it. She needed to wait for the right time, though. Getting across the border into Canada or Mexico would keep her safe. Neither country would extradite escaped slaves.

After a shower, she found that her fatigues were gone, replaced by sandals and a thin white tunic. There was nothing to go underneath it, of course. Sighing, she put it on. It clung to her, coming down to mid-thigh.

"Let's go, ladies. Auction starts in ten minutes," a female guard said outside the shower stall.

Isabella slipped the thin sandals on and opened the curtain, stepping out into the hall. The guard nodded at her, pointing down the hall. "That way."

She followed the pointing finger to a room with a couple dozen other newly-enslaved POWs, standing around silently, avoiding each others' gazes. The women wore tunics like hers, while the men wore light-colored shorts. Several guards flanked the room, and a raised platform to one side had a bored-looking Central soldier holding a microphone loosely at his side. A few more people trickled in behind her, then the doors were closed.

"Okay, your attention, please," the soldier said, and the slaves all looked up at him. "You have now all been collared. Your collar is much more than just an indication of your new status. The readout on the front will give ownership information. There's a tracking device in the collar to help us find you if you decide to run away, and any attempt to force it to open without authorization will cause it to send an alert to the local police. You're not going anywhere, folks, so don't try to run."

Some low murmuring from the slaves was silenced as he put the microphone back to his mouth. "Biometric data will be sent to your new owner's control unit, which looks like this." He held up a small silvery remote with a readout panel in his other hand. "The control unit can activate the shocker unit in your collar, which hurts like hell if it activates. The shocker will also activate if you try to pick up the control unit, or try to force the collar open. Do not make your new owners' lives difficult. They _will_ make yours hell."

He smiled, a feral grin. "Now, you'll get called out for auction one by one. Do not speak to buyers unless spoken to. The next few of you to be auctioned will be staged in the entryway for inspection. Be good, hope for the best, and you might get freed in five years."

One of the slaves laughed bitterly.

The soldier nodded. "Yeah, I know. Best you can hope for, though." Somebody handed a sheet of paper up to him. "Okay, first three up for inspection: Hopkins, Christopher Oliver; Day, Melissa Stephanie; Wilson, Jennifer Angela. Everybody else, just wait your turn."

* * *

Phineas left the bar after his third scotch. The pleasant warmth spread through him. "Mr. Flynn, why don't you get in the car and we'll drive back?" Sergeant Carruthers said.

Phineas considered being alone in his hotel room with his thoughts. It didn't sound pleasant right now. He propped a hand on Carruthers's shoulder. "I...I don't want to get back in the car right now." He looked around for something else to do. Carruthers rolled her eyes.

Next door, Phineas saw the barkers outside a storefront being used as an impromptu auction house; apparently a new batch of slaves had just come in. He shook his head sadly. The Central Alliance had introduced the idea of enslaving POWs, and both Columbia (the northeastern faction) and Dixie (the southern faction) had taken to it enthusiastically, while the Southwest had repudiated it. The leaders of both Columbia and Dixie had ended up convicted and enslaved after they'd surrendered, while their soldiers who hadn't been previously captured had been given amnesty and drafted into the Central army.

"I hate this," Phineas muttered. He wasn't even sure that Carruthers heard him. "Hopefully, when the war ends, all this will stop."

"Come on in, folks! Got us a fresh batch of sweaties, just captured yesterday! Get 'em before the whorehouses 'n factories buy 'em all!" the barker shouted. Phineas frowned at the slur - Southwesterners had been shortened to 'sweaties', Columbians had become 'cummies', and soldiers from Dixie, the southeastern faction, were referred to as 'dicks' whatever sex they were. Apparently the usual slur for Central soldiers among the other factions was 'cows', because much of the midwest had been under Central control.

He looked down the street toward his hotel, then shrugged and decided to go look at the auction. Maybe something else to be outraged at would help wipe the memories of today aside. It was a bad sign when seeing people treated as property bothered him less than...what he'd seen.

The next several slaves were lined up outside the auction room so that people could examine them. One of them, a young woman with black hair that just came down to her shoulders, looked oddly familiar, although he couldn't place where he'd seen her. He furrowed his brow, looking her over, wracking his brain.

"What's your name?" he blurted out. Carruthers stiffened.

The young woman looked up at the guard overseeing the area; he nodded at her. "Isabella," she said.

He didn't remember knowing anyone named Isabella. "Thanks," he said, puzzled. He looked at her some more; she was quite pretty. The slave tunic showed her off well, clinging to her chest while revealing her strong legs, muscles showing under tanned skin. Her blue eyes looked at him, questioning, as if she recognized him, too, but couldn't place him. Shrugging, he continued on into the auction room.

A dark-skinned young man was on the block as Phineas entered. Phineas looked away, heading along the side of the room away from the auction block.

"Here you go, sir," an attendant said, handing him a bidding paddle, number 104.

"Wait, I don't..." Phineas started, but the attendant had already moved on.

Phineas sat as the young man was led off. Carruthers took up a defensive position along the wall, with several other men and women who looked like they were doing the same. A young woman was led on next, pale with short blonde hair. Phineas watched the auction dispassionately; the woman was clearly quite beautiful, and bidding on her went quite high, but...he just wasn't attracted to her.

 _Demisexual_ , Ferb had called it. Phineas was really only sexually attracted to people he had an emotional relationship with. He'd dated a friend named Holly for a bit in high school. They'd been sexually active, eventually, but outside of that, he'd never really looked at anyone and thought, "Gee, I'd like to have sex with them".

The blonde was sold for almost 100,000 Central dollars, to a man in a suit who looked like he did this for a living. _Probably a broker, planning to resell further away from the front_. Most folks couldn't afford to spend that much for a personal slave. Phineas could, with the profits from the weapons research he and Ferb had done, but very few others had the free cash. He'd need to transfer money back from his offshore accounts, though, or take out a loan until he could.

Another young man, this one looking like he had Korean ancestry, was led to the block. His right arm was missing below the elbow, and the marks along the edges of the bandages looked like he'd just caught the edge of a tumbler bomb. Phineas had to look away with guilt, seeing someone that was wounded by his work. _How many didn't even make it here? How many have I killed? This was a mistake._

 _I wish I could just save one somehow._

He looked up, and the bidding on the young man was over. He hadn't even heard it. The black-haired woman - Isabella, and the name rolled around the inside of his head looking for a connection - was on the block.

"75,000 going once...do I hear 80?" the auctioneer said. "Going twice...80. Can I get 85?"

Phineas hadn't realized that he'd raised his hand, but there it was, holding up the paddle. The other bidder shook his head, frowning.

"80,000 going twice...three times, and sold, paddle 104."

 _What the hell am I going to do with a slave?_ Phineas thought as Sergeant Carruthers covered her face with her palm and shook her head.


	2. Getting To Know You

Isabella sat in the waiting area, her collar hooked to the wall by a leash, her wrists held back by another zip-tie. Other newly-sold slaves gathered around the dingy little room, still in their tunics or shorts. Some of them sat in clusters, grouped by purchaser. Nobody else was seated near her, which made her wonder.

She hadn't seen who had bought her. A broker seemed most likely, for resale in one of the cities, but she'd expect to have company in that case. Maybe it was that red-haired man who'd asked her name? He seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before.

"Number F14? Owner's here," the guard said, walking toward her. Isabella looked up; that was the number she'd been given. The guard unhooked her leash from the wall, and she stood up. He turned her around roughly, clipping the zip-tie holding her wrists. Tugging her around with the leash, he led her toward the exit as she worked out the kinks in her arms.

The red-haired man stood there, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously, holding on to a control remote as if it were toxic. An annoyed-looking soldier in Central fatigues stood behind him, her hand resting next to her holstered pistol. The guard handed the red-haired man a clipboard, which he looked at before signing. He took the leash from the guard, looking embarrassed, and led her out of the building. The street was mostly empty in the early evening.

Her new owner turned to her. "Do you need the leash? I feel like an idiot holding this thing."

She shook her head. "No, that's fine. I'm not going to run. I mean, you can trigger the shocker in my collar anyway."

He tensed a bit, reaching up to unclip the leash from her collar. "I wouldn't do that. I don't even want this damn thing. My hotel's just down the street."

"Yes, master."

He winced as if struck. "Call me Phineas. Please. Should I call you Isabella?"

"Yes, please," she said. _Interesting. I wasn't expecting that. This might be easier than I thought. I'll have this guy wrapped around my finger in no time._

"Great. This is Sergeant Sandra Carruthers, my minder." The soldier nodded at her warily. "Let's go." Phineas gestured down the sidewalk, and she started walking. He fell into step next to her.

"We should take the car," Sergeant Carruthers said.

Phineas pointed down the street. "It's just a block. You can go get the car and we'll meet you there, if you want." A frown showed the sergeant's opinion of this idea.

They walked along silently, an awkward tension between them. Her stomach growled insistently. "Have you eaten?" he asked.

"Not since the MRE they gave me for breakfast," she said. With her enhanced metabolism, that felt like forever.

"Let's grab some food, then."

She wasn't sure what to expect, but he stopped at a small fast-food place that was half-filled with Central troops. Heads turned toward them, and conversations stopped. He ordered burgers, fries, and drinks for both of them, after asking what she wanted, and carried it to a booth. He offered to get something for the Sergeant as well, but she declined, instead waiting in a position where she could see the entire dining room.

Isabella kept an eye out as she ate, aware that she was the focus of attention. Phineas seemed to notice as well, and ate his burger quickly. He swallowed, and mumbled, "Sorry, didn't realize."

They finished their burgers, and Isabella sat back with her drink. The burger had been good but not really enough, and she looked around to check their situation. There were fewer soldiers in the building now, fortunately, and the remaining ones seemed to be ignoring them.

"You ready to go?" Phineas asked quietly. She nodded, chugging down the last of her drink.

As they exited, three Central soldiers stepped out of the shadows, blocking their way. Two more came up behind them; one put his pistol near Sergeant Carruthers's head.

"Nice Sweaty you got there," the apparent leader said, a tall, muscular man with light skin and close-cropped blonde hair, his breath reeking of stale beer. The rank insignia on his fatigues said he was a corporal.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," Phineas said.

"Neither do we. We just want to borrow her," the corporal said, cracking his knuckles. "We'll give her back in one piece. Mostly."

"Stand down," Carruthers said in her most commanding voice, and the man next to her punched with the butt of his pistol. Carruthers put her hand up to her jaw, rubbing gently.

"We got some scores to settle with the Sweaties," a swarthy private behind the leader said. His vicious grin grew as he looked Isabella up and down. _Dammit. I don't want to use the implants. I just ate, but I'll be starving again by morning from the energy they burn._

"Come on, guys, I just bought her, I haven't even had a chance to try her out yet..." Phineas began, sliding his hand into his pocket as casually as he could. Isabella noticed, and her implants activated with a thought. The world began to slow down as her reactions sped up.

"We'll break her in for you," the swarthy private said, reaching out for Isabella in slow motion.

She grabbed his outstretched hand and flipped him over her shoulder. The leader slowly turned to throw a punch, only to go down hard as Isabella's snap kick took him in the stomach and threw him backwards. He landed on his back and lay there, holding his stomach and groaning. She checked behind her; the soldier she'd flipped wasn't moving.

Carruthers's hand swept from her jaw to the gun, knocking it away as her fist drove into its wielder's stomach. A backhand on the other side caught her other attacker, knocking him back enough for her to step away.

The last soldier, a brown-haired young man with a bright pink scar on his tanned cheek, was trying to throw a punch at Phineas. Phineas slapped his arm with something that he'd pulled from his pocket. The soldier convulsed as electricity jolted through him, dropping to the ground and twitching like a fish on dry land before passing out.

Carruthers drew her pistol as she stepped to where she could see all five attackers. "None of you move." She keyed her microphone with her free hand. "Dispatch, send a squad of MPs to the Del Taco on Main, I've got five here who just tried to attack me and my VIP."

 _Interesting_ , Isabella thought as she deactivated the implants. _For a civilian, he's got a cool head in a fight._

* * *

After the MPs took their statements and carted off the prisoners, Phineas let Carruthers drive them back to the hotel. It was the nicest one in town, not that that was saying much. The clerk gave him a nod as they walked through the lobby, while Isabella looked around.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do with her. He'd never wanted a slave. He didn't think he wanted one now. But...now that he'd bought her, he felt protective of her, and the idea of just selling her off appalled him. What horrors might some other owner might subject her to?

They rode the elevator up two floors, and went down the narrow, brightly-carpeted hall to his room. Carruthers gave Isabella a purse-mouthed frown, then looked at Phineas. "If you need me, Sir, I'm next door." Phineas nodded and unlocked the door, escorting Isabella inside. The room was small, a typical hotel room with a king-size bed, small bathroom, desk with chair, small table, and a television. Isabella smiled at him as the door closed behind her. He flipped the deadbolt shut as Isabella turned to him expectantly.

"I...look, I don't know how this works," Phineas said nervously.

Isabella shrugged. "That's up to you. I don't think you can really do it wrong, given that you're in charge." She pointed to the bathroom. "May I...?"

"Please, feel free," Phineas said, cursing himself for not thinking to offer it.

He kicked off his shoes and pulled out the desk chair, taking a seat. His laptop sat on the desk, silently waiting for him. He started to reach for it to wake it up, then decided not to.

The toilet flushed, and Isabella came out. She washed her hands in the sink, smiling at him in the mirror before she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"So..." he said.

"So?"

"So...we're stuck with each other for five years now, I guess."

She shrugged. "You're stuck with me as long as you want to be. I'm yours until you decide to get rid of me."

He winced. "Sorry. I'm not going to do that. I...I'm not even really sure why I bid. But since I did, I figure I have a responsibility to get you through your sentence and then let you go."

"That sounds nice from my perspective," she said, kicking off her sandals. She curled her legs underneath her on the bed, tugging the tunic down as much as it would go, which wasn't much.

"Sorry. We can get you more clothes tomorrow once we get to Danville."

"You don't need to apologize. Is that where we're going?" She looked pleased.

"Yeah, that's where I'm from. Got sent out to look into the command center that just got captured, and tomorrow morning we head back."

"I'm actually from there originally as well," she said with an introspective smile.

"Really? How did you end up..."

"I was at Ground Zero in Santa Fe when the war started. My mother and I were there visiting relatives, and...after the attack, it was just me. I was five. They put me in an orphanage in Albuquerque."

"So, you're twenty-three now? So am I. When's your birthday?"

"July 30."

"Exactly a month after mine, then. June 30." He wasn't sure quite why this made him happy. "I wonder..."

"Hmm?"

"It's just...I thought I recognized you, but I have no idea where from. I wonder if we knew each other as little kids or something."

She blushed, looking away from him. "I thought I recognized you too, but...that'd be really weird."

* * *

He'd had the front desk send up another toothbrush for her; she didn't comment that it seemed pointless given how many bodily fluids they'd be sharing soon enough. It made him happy, and right now, making Phineas happy was at the top of her priority list. Give it a couple weeks and he'd calm down, and maybe she could see about escaping. She could fake cooperation until then just fine.

Fortunately, he seemed like his primary goal was making _her_ happy, which was bizarre, but she wasn't going to complain about it. Much better than getting shipped inland for resale to whoever was buying there. He'd said that he didn't want to resell her, that he felt responsible for her. To some extent, she thought her best bet might be hanging out with him for a few years and letting anyone chasing after Dewdrop find nothing at all. He seemed nice.

Which didn't mean it wasn't a trap, or that she wasn't going to have to give it her all in bed with him tonight. Pair-bonding hormones would be the best thing she could have in her favor right now, and he seemed like the type of man who gained respect for his partners instead of losing it. The more he wanted to be with her, and keep her safe, the better off she was. She hadn't had sex with a man in years - just a few fumbling times with Tim back in high school - but it should come back quickly enough, she hoped. She'd figured out many years ago that she was bisexual.

He'd apologized for not having gotten a room with two beds, which she was puzzled about. Did he want her to change beds after they had sex?

She looked at herself in the mirror and shrugged. Whatever. For now, she'd play along, until the time came for her to run.

She pulled the tunic off, folding it and setting it on the counter. She took a quick glance at her naked body in the mirror. If her body was the only weapon she had, it wouldn't be the first time. And it was, she had to admit, one hell of a weapon, without even counting her implants. She put on a smile and walked into the rest of the hotel room.

Phineas was lying in the bed, way off on the left side. "I..." he stammered, his eyes wide. "I wasn't expecting you to..."

She pulled the covers back on the other side, climbing under them before scooting across the bed to him. "So, how would you like this?" she asked in her best sultry voice. She pressed her body against his under the covers; he was wearing just a pair of boxer shorts, so their skin pressed together along most of the length of their bodies.

"I..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't tonight. I..."

She looked up at him, surprised. Her understanding was that men with naked women in their beds didn't generally say 'no'.

"Just sleep, okay?" he asked, sounding almost desperate. "Do you want to put something on? Please?"

Her mind raced. _He's reluctant. I can convince him that I want this easily enough. Plan ahead._ "Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I don't have much to offer, but you can steal one of my shirts if you'd like."

"Sure," she said, and he got up to grab the shirt he'd worn today, and handed it to her. As she put it on, he lay in bed, a bit apart from her. She lay down next to him, curling into his side as she pulled the blankets up.

"You don't need to sleep that close. Really. Just sleep tonight," he said nervously.

"Okay," she said, rolling over. The king-sized bed gave them both plenty of room. Her mind worked busily, trying to figure out how she was going to convince him to do more than just _sleep_ with her.


	3. Truce

Phineas woke up to an unfamiliar presence. He'd rolled over in the night, and was spooning with Isabella, who was lying on her side facing away from him. Her body pressed back against his own, and her black hair smelled like lilacs under his nose. He tried to figure out how to detach himself without waking her up.

He didn't know how to tell her that he hardly knew her, and therefore wasn't really interested in having sex with her. At least, he thought it was because he hardly knew her. She was beautiful enough that he'd expect that most guys would be turned on by her.

His ownership of her caused entirely different problems for his head. While, legally, her consent didn't matter, that meant that morally, she couldn't give consent at all. Without consent, he'd consider anything he did with - or to - her to be rape.

She hummed, a pleased sound, low in her throat, and stretched a bit. "That feels nice," she whispered. She leaned back into him, then rolled away and sat up. "You mind if I go grab a shower? It's been a while since I could get them regularly."

"No, go ahead," he said, and she jumped out of bed and scampered toward the bathroom, the hem of his shirt dancing around her upper thighs. She really was a beautiful woman, he thought. "I was going to call room service for breakfast, so we don't end up with a mess like last night, okay?"

"Sounds good," she said, leaning out the bathroom door. "I'd like a cheese omelet and pancakes if they've got them. Sausage on the side. Coffee, black. Otherwise, whatever looks good, but I'm _really_ hungry." She ducked back inside the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He called down to room service, ordering Isabella her coffee, omelet, and pancakes, along with Eggs Benedict and a coffee with cream and sugar for himself. He caught up on his email while listening to the water running.

The water stopped just as a knock on the door indicated their food had arrived. Isabella came out in her tunic as he was tipping the young man who'd delivered their food and escorting him out the door.

"That smells divine," Isabella said, a smile on her face, as she sat at the table. She removed the cover over one plate, squealing with delight at the contents.

He ate while watching her reactions; he wondered just how long it had been since she'd had anything to eat that wasn't government-issue. She seemed to be enjoying the food sensually, reveling in the flavors.

She looked up, catching his eye, and looked back down, blushing with a shy smile. "Sorry," she mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes.

"It's okay. Been eating MREs a bit too much recently, I suspect?"

She nodded as she put a forkful of hash browns in her mouth.

"You'll enjoy the company cafeteria, then," he said. "We try to make it something people can look forward to, not just basic sustenance."

Her eyes lit up and she smiled at him.

* * *

Phineas scarfed down his eggs and went to grab a quick shower, while Isabella savored her breakfast. It really had been far too long since she'd had a good meal that wasn't government-issue, and the past two weeks had involved far too many MREs for anyone's tastebuds. Fortunately, her senses of taste and smell were completely un-enhanced.

The pancakes were a bit dry, but the omelet was light and fluffy, with a nice sharp cheddar in the middle. The hash browns on the side were crisp and tasty, the sausage was nicely-seasoned and well-browned, and the coffee was dark and invigorating.

He came out of the shower wearing just his pants, and she admired the view surreptitiously while he tracked down a shirt. A fine line of thin red hair ran down the center of his chest; his skin was pale, as if he didn't get outside much, and he didn't look especially muscular. At a guess, he was an office worker of some sort. She briefly pondered why he was this close to the front, and escorted by a soldier. He'd been sent to look at the command center, he'd said; some sort of computer tech? It seemed most likely, but he'd said they were heading back to Danville today, and she'd expect a computer tech to be staying on longer than that. Unless the computer systems had been shredded too much for him to recover. She could hope; the more damage, the less likely anyone could figure out what she'd done.

There was another knock on the door. Phineas looked through the peephole before letting Sergeant Carruthers in. Isabella smiled at the Sergeant as she finished off her hash browns and Phineas packed up his last few belongings.

"Okay, Sergeant. As soon as Isabella's ready to go, we can head to the airfield," Phineas said, closing his suitcase.

Isabella swallowed the last of her omelet, and washed it down with the last of her coffee. "I'm ready," she said, standing up. She slipped on her sandals and nodded to Phineas.

"Then, let's go," Phineas said, extending the handle on his suitcase and rolling it toward the door. Sergeant Carruthers went out first, checking the hall before letting them out. She led them down to the car, putting Phineas's suitcase in the trunk, and then got in and drove them toward the airfield.

The car stopped at the security gate, where the sergeant showed an ID and they were waved inside. A hastily-raised Central flag flapped gently in the breeze. The scorch marks and bullet holes showed that this base hadn't been taken entirely without a fight, but it looked like it had surrendered before it was too badly damaged.

They pulled up next to a small turbojet plane marked as Central Alliance Air Force, and Carruthers got out to open the door for them. "Thank you, sergeant," Phineas said. "It's been a pleasure having your company these past couple days. Thank your commanding officer for me, please."

He led Isabella up the stairs and into the plane, where a steward was waiting, a tanned young man in the uniform of a senior airman. "Mr. Flynn? Whenever you're ready to go. I assume this young lady is going with us?"

Isabella barely caught herself from stumbling as she heard the name. _Flynn? Phineas Flynn? Fuck. That explains what he's doing here._

It had been the closest thing she'd ever had to a failed mission. Dewdrop had sent her to Danville to kill the head researcher for Fletcher-Flynn Research. Unfortunately, Intelligence had screwed up, and the target they'd sent her after was actually the father of the real researchers. She'd thought it looked wrong, and tried to convince Control to let her investigate further, but they'd insisted, and a bomb planted in his car had killed him. Only after she got back to base did they learn that Intelligence had been wrong.

They'd sent Sierra Six for a second attempt, but...she didn't want to think about that.

"Yes, she's coming along, Tom," Phineas said as he took a seat. Isabella looked around the plane. It was clearly a private jet, meant to ferry high-profile passengers back and forth in luxury. A leather couch sat toward the back, with a large screen facing it. In between were several well-padded leather seats, and a table that was currently bare.

The steward's eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down, and he asked with pursed lips, "Will you be needing... _privacy_ during the flight, Mr. Flynn?"

"Huh?" Phineas said, confused, then then he seemed to understand. "Oh, no, Tom, none of that."

The steward nodded. "Okay. I'll go let the pilot know you're ready to go, then. Would you like something to drink before we take off?"

"I'm good," Phineas said. "Isabella?"

She sat in the seat next to Phineas, and smiled up at the steward. "I'm fine, thank you, sir."

Her mind raced. She looked over at him, and wished she'd been given a photo of him when Sierra Six had been sent out. _Security_ , they'd said, but how could she leak anything when she was stuck in base being mission control?

She could take Flynn out now, and...no.

He was bringing her to Danville. She could take out Flynn and Fletcher together, then escape and head back to Southwestern territory. Or maybe just go to Canada. That idea worked.

The engines spun up, and the plane began to taxi. She ran through the list of what she'd need to disable her collar and tracking device; she'd have to do that first. She'd need to find tools. They probably had some of what she'd need on the plane, but not everything.

As the plane took off, a horrifying thought occurred to her. _What if he already knows who I am? What if they sent him to pick me up and get me to Danville without me suspecting anything?_

She shook that thought away. It was too dangerous; they'd never risk one of their top researchers on anything like that. They didn't need to keep her in the dark, they could have just restrained her and dragged her back unwillingly. It wasn't like the Liquidator could ever be activated again with the bunker destroyed and its codes gone with it.

 _Unless it wasn't as dangerous after all..._ She thought back to the fight outside the fast-food restaurant. He'd had some little device that had disabled a man instantly. How often could it work? And what would happen if he used it on her? Her only hope would be to completely surprise him, and find a way to get the control remote away from him, along with any of those little shock tabs.

But then, they'd spent the night sharing a bed, and he clearly hadn't planned on that. He'd reacted as if he'd genuinely not expected to have company on the trip. If he'd wanted to keep her complacent, he'd have fucked her like any other new owner would have.

She sighed. This was getting complicated.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up from his laptop. "I know you've had a rough couple of days. We'll get back to Danville and spend the weekend together? Just getting to know each other?"

He'd completely misinterpreted the sigh, apparently. Or was at least pretending to.

The steward came back in from the front of the plane, a smile on his face. "Mr. Flynn? I...I think you'll want to see this." He turned on the large television at the front of the passenger compartment, which was apparently set to a news channel. The anchor looked directly into the camera, his short black hair (greying at the temples) shellacked into place over his carefully-tanned skin. He was in the middle of a sentence.

"...exactly how readmission will be handled is still to be seen. Again, today's breaking story: troops from the rebel group calling themselves the Southwestern Concord have taken over the so-called government complex in Albuquerque."

"What?" Phineas said, sitting up.

 _Fuck. Two fucking days. Two. Fucking. Days._ Isabella sighed deeply.

"General Alvarado, speaking for the troops," the anchor continued, "is claiming that the Concord's alleged government is ignoring reality and throwing troops away on an unwinnable war."

"I'm sorry," Phineas began. "You probably suspected this was coming..."

"It was obvious," Isabella said. "I'm just pissed. Two days, and I would have come out of this free and clear. Instead, I got this," she flicked her collar, "for five years."

The anchor's face was replaced by a shot of Albuquerque's Government Center. Smoke poured out of a window, and the troops guarding the buildings looked more mismatched than usual. "They have called for a cease-fire, which the Federal Joint Chiefs have agreed to while the surrender negotiations proceed. The Federal government has claimed all along that they would accept nothing but unconditional surrender; however, with the events in Albuquerque, there may be some flexibility there."

"I wish there was more I could do for you," Phineas said.

She gave him a wistful smile. "It's okay. We'll make the best of it as we can." _Not much point in trying to carry out my mission now._

The steward rolled his eyes and headed forward again.

* * *

Phineas smiled at Isabella as she walked along beside him. They'd stopped in at a store and gotten her a couple outfits to wear - one for today and one for tomorrow, with a promise to go shopping over the weekend. For today, she'd picked out a magenta dress that suited her quite well, with a modest neckline and a hem just below her knees.

"Just one quick stop," he said, "and then we can swing by the office."

"Lead the way," she said, matching his pace. He was glad she didn't seem to feel a need to stay a few paces behind him or anything like that. He felt awkward enough owning her without having her acting like...well, like a slave.

He turned into the First National Bank of Danville, waving to the manager, a tall, thin man with lightly-tanned skin and greying brown hair.

"Mr. Flynn, to what do we owe the pleasure?" the manager said with a nod of his head, then turned to Isabella. "Ah, this exquisite slave must be what you needed the short-term loan for?"

"Indeed," Phineas said with a wince he hoped he'd concealed. "I'd like to pay that off now, if I could."

"Of course, of course," the manager said in a supercilious voice. He led them into his office, then asked, "May I have your card, Mr. Flynn?"

Phineas handed over his ATM card, and the manager pulled up his accounts.

"I see. So you've got a touch over sixty thousand in your personal accounts, and the loan was for eighty, plus fees and interest. How would you like to cover the loan? Transfer from the corporate account?"

Phineas flipped through his wallet, pulling out another card. "No. Transfer from my Royal Bank of Canada account."

"Very well." He swiped the card, then slid a pad toward Phineas. "How much would you like to transfer?"

"Let's say seventy, and cover the rest from my local account."

"Excellent." The manager typed some numbers, and the transaction data appeared on the pad. "Enter your PIN and then I need a thumbprint."

Phineas punched his PIN into the pad, then pressed his right thumb onto the reader.

"And, that's all we needed." He leered at Isabella. "I think you got a deal, Mr. Flynn. Is this a line of business you see yourself in more often? We can set up a line of credit for you to draw on..."

"Not necessary," Phineas said. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Phillips."

"The pleasure, as always, is mine." The manager escorted them to the door.

"Sorry to cause trouble," Isabella said as they walked back toward the car.

"No trouble. I just don't keep most of my personal money local. When it looked like Central was going to lose the war, Ferb and I got in the habit of keeping most of our money in other countries, just in case. I shift mine to Canada, and then to Switzerland and other places."

"If most of your money isn't here, why was he sucking up to you so much?"

"Because my personal money isn't there, but the corporate accounts for Fletcher-Flynn are all through them. We're their largest account."

She nodded. "That makes sense."

* * *

"I just need to stop in at the office before we head to my mother's for dinner," Phineas said as he drove them across town.

"That's fine. It's not like I have any plans," Isabella said, sitting back and looking out the window. She was trying to give the impression she'd never been here before by gawking at all the sights. The streets were packed with people celebrating the cease-fire.

Given his personality, she'd expected him to have a sports car, but instead, he drove a large sedan. From the ponderous-but-smooth ride it had, she suspected it was heavily armored. On the plus side, it meant there was plenty of room in the trunk for the clothes he'd bought for her. He'd offered to buy her feminine supplies as well, but she'd told him about the hormonal IUD that the Southwestern military implanted in all their female soldiers. The birth-control was nice, but not having to deal with periods was by far the best part of it from her perspective.

The sedan stopped at the security checkpoint outside the Fletcher-Flynn Research campus. Phineas rolled down the window, and the guard nodded, waving him through. They pulled into the parking garage underneath the main building, parking in a spot marked **Reserved**. A dark blue Shelby Cobra sat in the spot next to it, also marked as Reserved.

"Oh, good. Ferb's still here," Phineas said. "I want to introduce you two. Maybe you'll do a better job of remembering each other. He's got a better memory than I do, and...well, you'll see. You're more likely to remember him, than me."

"I was barely five. I'm not even sure I remember living here, and not just being told about it," Isabella said. "Nothing looks familiar."

"Well, it's changed a lot since then," he said, leading her toward an elevator marked 'Private'. He swiped an access badge across a reader, and the elevator dinged; a moment later, the door slid open. He escorted her in, then swiped the card across the reader inside the elevator.

They rode up in silence to the top floor, where they came out into a small lobby area. Phineas swiped his badge across another reader, then pressed his palm onto a glowing pad. "Unidentified person present," a robotic voice said.

"Right," Phineas said as he clipped his badge to a belt loop. He spoke into a small speaker pad. "Authorize permanent access by my authority." He typed into a keypad briefly.

"User name?" the computer said. Phineas gestured to Isabella.

"Isabella Garcia-Shapiro," Isabella said.

 **ISABELLA GARCIA SHAPIRO** appeared on the screen. "Is this correct?"

"Yes," Isabella said.

"Please look into the camera," the voice said, and a green light began to blink. She looked at the light, and the light turned off with a beep.

"Please place your palm on the read pad," the voice said. The pad began to glow again, and she pressed her hand to it.

The door slid open. "A badge will be sent up shortly. Please use this temporary badge until your permanent badge arrives." A printed piece of paper, and a clip to hold it, came out of a slot. She picked it up and clipped it to her dress.

"Let's go meet people," Phineas said, leading her in.

The door opened into a wide hallway with glass-walled offices on one side and a large, open lab area on the other. They walked past one office, whose door was closed; inside, it was full of clutter, with papers and coffee mugs everywhere. The door had 'Flynn' scrawled on it in marker. "Mine," Phineas said. They continued past, to a neat, well-organized office with a tall, green-haired man sitting at the desk. He looked up at them, and did a double-take at her. Phineas led her in, through the open door that read 'Fletcher' in neat engineering block letters.

The green-haired man raised an eyebrow and nodded toward Isabella.

"Ferb, this is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro; Isabella, this is my brother, Ferb Fletcher. Ferb, does she look familiar to you? From a long time ago?"

Ferb looked at her. His brow crinkled, and he shook his head.

"How about you, Isabella? Remember a boy with green hair?"

Isabella shook her head as well. "Sorry, no."

Phineas shrugged. "Oh, well. So I needed to get away from...what I saw at the command center, and ended up accidentally buying Isabella. At least part of that was because I could swear I recognize her from somewhere. She lived here until the war started, you see."

Ferb sat back, a smirk on his face. "Accidentally? How do you 'accidentally' purchase a slave?"

"I didn't ask for the bidding paddle, and I really don't remember raising my hand with it. But apparently I did. I may have been less than 100% sober."

"So what did you do for the Southwestern military, Isabella?" Ferb asked, sitting back.

"I worked in operations. Paperwork shuffling in the command center, and then I didn't get away in time. Two fucking days..." She paused, embarrassed. "Sorry, I should watch my language."

Ferb shrugged. "Not a problem. We're all adults here. Just not in front of Carla, she doesn't care for it. Two days?"

"If I'd stayed free two more days, I'd have made it to the cease-fire."

Ferb nodded, then looked at Phineas. "You do realize you've just brought a hostile soldier into one of the most protected areas in the country, right?"

Phineas smiled at Isabella, a bit vapidly. "Oh, I'm sure she's harmless. Besides, the war's over."

"For now," Ferb said darkly. He frowned a moment, then said, "Phineas, may I speak with you alone for a moment?"

"Sure. Let me go drop Isabella off with Carla."

He led her back out, then over to a desk near the other elevator. A smiling, plump woman with greying brown hair and pale skin looked up. "Hello, Mr. Flynn," she said in a thick Minnesota accent. "Who's this?"

"Carla, this is Isabella. She'll be here for a while. Can she hang out with you for a few minutes while I talk to Ferb?"

"Why sure, Mr. Flynn, you betcha. Have a seat, Isabella." Carla gestured toward a chair behind her. Phineas headed back in, as Carla started talking about moving to Danville from Duluth, how she'd ended up working here, her new grandchild, and everything else about her life as Isabella nodded and made affirmative noises in her direction.

* * *

Phineas walked back into Ferb's office, closing the door behind him and collapsing into a chair.

"Seriously, Phineas?" Ferb asked archly. "It's not like you to think with the little head like this. You got that desperate?"

"It's not what you think, Ferb..." Phineas began.

"No? You come in here with a gorgeous slave you bought and try to tell me it's not what I think? Did she suck your brains out last night or something?"

"Ferb! How could you think I'd do that? We just slept last night. I've been a perfect gentleman."

Ferb sat back, blinking. "Seriously?"

Phineas raised a hand. "I swear it. I'd say I didn't touch her, but there was only one bed in the hotel room. So we woke up holding on to each other. But no funny business."

Ferb chuckled. "Only you, Phineas. Only you would buy a slave girl that attractive and _not_ have sex with her. So where is she sleeping tonight?"

Phineas paused, thinking of his one-bedroom apartment. "Dammit."

"So be honest. Why did you buy her, if it wasn't to fuck her?"

Phineas looked at the floor for a long moment. "I saw what a tumbler bomb does to people, Ferb."

"And?"

"How many Southwestern soldiers died because of us, Ferb? How many civilians?"

"How many lives did we save by ending the war sooner?"

Phineas looked up, sharply. "You can't do math with lives, Ferb. Hypothetically, we saved lives, sure, but in reality, there are orphans because of us. Widows, widowers, parents mourning their lost children. I just..."

Ferb nodded.

"I just want to save one. I know it doesn't make up for it, but it's the best I can do right now. So I'll keep her safe until her sentence expires in five years."

Ferb shook his head. "You do realize she shouldn't go into any secure areas? Like, say, the lab that's just outside my office door?"

"She'll be fine, Ferb. She was just a random operations soldier. It's not like she was a secret assassin or anything."

"How do you know that?"

"She told me. That she was in operations, not that she wasn't a secret assassin. That subject never came up."

"Do I need to point out that that's just what a secret assassin would say?"

"Well, granted, but..."

"You've known her for...what, a day now?"

Phineas checked his watch. "About twenty hours."

"And you're sure she isn't hiding anything from you?"

"Pretty much. Are you sure she didn't look familiar?"

"I don't recognize her, no. Might want to ask Mum."

"That was the plan. I was going to swing over for dinner tonight. You up to joining me?"

Ferb shook his head. "Date tonight."

Phineas raised an eyebrow. "Anyone I know?"

"No, some guy I ran into last week. This is date number two."

"Mom would..."

"Mum doesn't understand why I don't find somebody nice and settle down. I'm not ready for that level of commitment again. There's a world full of attractive men and women out there, I don't see the need to limit myself." He paused, looking at Phineas. "If you don't want your new slave girl, maybe I could borrow her for a few nights?"

"No," Phineas said more firmly than he'd intended.

Ferb smiled knowingly. "Of course not."

* * *

Ferb watched Phineas leave the office, then shook his head. He knew his brother well enough to recognize the tell-tale signs already. Phineas was more interested in this slave girl than even he suspected.

Ferb wished him luck, even as he wondered why Phineas would subject someone to that much risk. But, then, Ferb supposed that it was less risk than she'd have been in in most other places she could have been sold to.

Ferb had given up long-term relationships after...well. No sense dwelling on what had happened to Gretchen. Maybe his offer of safety wouldn't have helped anyway. If the bomb had killed her instead of - or in addition to - his father, he'd have felt even worse.

He checked his watch; he had an hour before he was supposed to meet with...Sam? Steve? Scott? It started with an S, he was reasonably sure. Whatever. He had enough time to go home and grab a shower before going to the club. They'd end up back at Scott's place, and then Ferb would head home after they'd had their fun.

Part of Ferb wished he could trust someone again, but he just wasn't ready for that. Maybe someday. The war was ending, so maybe he'd be less of a risk to be around.


	4. Home

"Hey, Mom!" Phineas said, leading Isabella into the house where he'd grown up.

"Oh, hi, Phineas! Do you know if Ferb is coming tonight?" a woman's voice came from the kitchen.

"No, he's got a date. I've got someone for you to meet, though," Phineas said. Isabella shuffled her feet nervously.

"Oh?" A tall, red-haired woman with pale skin and freckles came in, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Who..." She stopped, staring at Isabella. The cloth dropped from nerveless fingers. "Phineas, is that..."

"It's not what you think, Mom," Phineas began. "I thought I recognized her, and she said she lived here until the war started. Her name is..."

"Isabella," the red-haired woman interrupted. "Isabella Garcia-Shapiro. You're the spitting image of your mother, dear."

Phineas's jaw dropped, and Isabella felt like she'd been run over by a truck. "What?" she said.

"Your mother was Vivian, right? Vivian Garcia-Shapiro?"

Isabella nodded dumbly.

"We thought you'd been killed in Santa Fe." The older woman came over to give her a hug. "You used to live across the street from us."

"Well, that would explain why we thought we recognized each other," Phineas said.

"Oh, yes, you and Isabella played together all the time. You cried for a week when we told you she wasn't coming back." She winked at Isabella. "You had such a crush on him. So how did you survive? Did your mother...?"

"No," Isabella said, finding her voice. "Everyone else was killed in the blast. I ended up in a little gap between walls, and they found me a few hours later. By the time they'd figured out who I was, the war had started, so they put me in an orphanage in Albuquerque."

"I wish I'd known," the woman said sadly. "We would have adopted you. Your mother was one of my best friends."

A beeping noise came from the kitchen. "Oh, dinner's almost ready, excuse me for a moment," the woman said, bustling back into the kitchen.

Isabella wiped the unexpected water out of her eyes.

* * *

"Excuse me, Mrs. Flynn? May I use your bathroom?" Isabella asked.

"Oh, call me Linda, please. It's just down the hall, to your right."

Phineas watched Isabella go down the hall. Tonight was going better than he could have ever anticipated. He now knew where he recognized Isabella from, and his mother had practically adopted her.

"I don't believe it," his mother said. "Little Isabella, all grown up. And she got that relationship with you after all! She had _such_ a big crush on you. Vivian said you were all she'd talk about."

"We're just sharing an apartment, Mom. It's not a relationship. I mean, it _is_ , but it's not a romantic one."

"Give it time, Phineas. I know you were always slow to find romance with someone. I'm just delighted that it's Isabella. You are planning to free her when her sentence is up, right?"

He decided it wasn't worth arguing about the state of their relationship now. "Of course."

Isabella came back with an embarrassed smile, and took another of Linda's delicious tacos. "These are very good, Mrs..."

Linda raised an eyebrow, and Isabella corrected herself, "Linda."

"I could tell you were enjoying them from how many you've eaten."

Isabella blushed and took another bite of her taco.

Linda sighed. "I wish I still had a metabolism like that." She paused a moment, then looked at Phineas. "Actually, Phineas, you should probably show Isabella the tree out back after dinner."

Phineas looked at his mother, puzzled. All that was by the tree was...ah. "She knew Perry and Pinky, then?"

Isabella looked at him, startled. "Pinky? I...Pinky was mine, wasn't he?"

Linda nodded. "Pinky was originally your dog, yes. We took him in after we thought you was gone. I thought..." She looked at Isabella. "I thought you might like to see where he was buried. He passed on four or five years back, from old age. There's a little gravestone out back, next to the boys' pet platypus from when they were kids."

Isabella blotted at her eyes, which were tearing up. "I'd like that, yes."

* * *

Phineas's apartment was in a private building, a few blocks away from the Fletcher-Flynn campus. The garage recognized his car and opened for him, and he drove down into his designated space. Another elevator awaited, and whisked them up to the top floor.

"Wow," Isabella said, setting down her bags of clothing and looking around. "Is this whole floor yours?"

"No, I have a chunk of the top floor, but not all of it. It's just a one-bedroom apartment." He looked embarrassed.

"It's huge," she said. A soft-looking couch faced a large, flat television and sound system; a modern-design coffee table in between was covered with magazines, half-assembled contraptions, and empty water glasses, as were the end tables flanking the couch. Two chairs sat at the sides of the coffee table. Massive windows covered the far wall, giving a view of Danville from above, shadowed by the setting sun in the distance. Futuristic and retro-future art covered the walls. A kitchen island with stools to sit at overlooked the living room, with the rest of the stainless-steel-and-granite kitchen behind it. A hallway led off along the window side. He hung his keys on a hook near the front door, tossing his wallet, badge, and the remote for her collar into the drawer of a small table underneath the hooks.

"Yeah, it was always a bit big for just me, but after..." He paused, and said, "Actually, I suppose I should warn you about that. There have been a couple assassination attempts on me. With the war ending, I think we're okay, but while you're with me, there _is_ that danger. I moved here because it was more secure, and an attack on me was less likely to hurt my parents. Not that it helped in the long run."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said. _I know from experience that your security is incredibly tough to crack. And Project Dewdrop is dead, gone, and buried, except for me._

"Bedroom's through here," he said, picking up her bags and carrying them into the hallway. "There's the bathroom," he nodded to a door in the hallway as she followed. "Laundry's in there as well."

The bedroom was dominated by a king-sized bed along one wall, and massive windows on two others. A nightstand held a clock and a charger pad for a phone. A dresser on the fourth wall had a few pictures on it, and a door that presumably led to the closet.

"And here's the bedroom. Um. Unfortunately, there's only the one bed, but if you'd feel more comfortable sleeping on the couch, that's okay. I don't want to..."

 _Okay. Two ways to play this_ , Isabella thought. _I can assume that he's serious about not wanting to screw me, in which case, I'd much rather sleep in a bed than on a couch. Or, he's being passive-aggressive about it, in which case, I'm better off playing along with what he wants._

"It'll be fine." She looked at him with sad eyes. "I'm not sure I want to be alone at night right now."

He nodded. "Yeah. I can understand that. Closet's through here." He led her through the door into a closet large enough that she could stretch her arms out without hitting either wall. His jackets and a few suits hung on one side, but most of the space was empty except for some loose hangers. "Hang your stuff however you'd like, and I'll clear out a couple drawers in the dresser for you. We can work on building up your wardrobe over the weekend."

"Phineas?"

"Hmm?" He looked up at her.

"Thank you. For everything. You've been the best thing that's happened to me in...well, probably since my mother died. When I got captured, I figured I'd be sold off to a brothel or a factory, and here you're treating me like your best friend who's coming to visit."

This seemed to cheer him up immensely. "Well, I..." He took a deep breath. "I really don't like slavery. At all. But...I needed to do something to make up for what I've done."

"Still...thank you. Whatever you've done."

"If you want, I can look into a larger apartment..."

She laughed. "This one's larger than a dorm with eight girls in it at the orphanage. It's fine. Really."

* * *

They'd watched some TV together on the couch before deciding to get some sleep.

She spun, to show off her new nightshirt, and he smiled at her. She pulled back the covers and turned off the light. The lights of the city shone in, giving him enough light to see her by as she slid in next to him, pressing her body against his side. His arm slid around her automatically, resting across her shoulders.

She caressed his chest, her hand playing with his sparse red chest hair. His free hand caught her wrist. "No, it's okay," he said. "Just sleep. You can go ahead and roll over if you like."

She leaned up, looking down at him. "Are you...not interested in women?" she asked. "Just...so I know."

"It's not that," he said. "It's...my head isn't normal about sex. Ferb calls me a 'heteroromantic demisexual'."

"I'm familiar with the term, but to be clear, what do you mean by it?" she asked, leaning back down to lay next to him.

"It means I'm romantically interested in women, but not really sexually interested in anyone I'm not deeply involved with. Sorry, I just met you; you're beautiful, but...it's far, far too soon. And that's not even getting into the consent issues with me...you know, owning you."

She seemed to process this for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. That doesn't mean you aren't normal, it just means you're you. We weren't all straight in my unit - I'm bi, Sophie was a lesbian, my ex-boyfriend Tim was asexual..."

"Right, Ferb calls himself pansexual. But, if Tim was asexual, how...?"

"He didn't figure it out until later. But that's all in the past. If you're demisexual, then I won't keep asking. But if you decide you're ready," she leaned up to kiss his cheek, "we'll work it out then."

"Thank you. But..." He took a deep breath. "I need to know that you're consenting freely, and I can't be sure of that while I own you. It's okay. Really."

He slid his arm out from underneath her, then rolled over to go to sleep.

* * *

 _There's nothing left for me in the Southwest,_ Isabella thought, staring at the ceiling. _Everyone involved with Dewdrop is gone. But I've got the resources and protection of one of Central's top researchers, he just wants to be friends for now, and his mother would pretty much adopt me if she could. I think I hit the jackpot here. I can hide here until I get things set up to run to Canada._

On the other side of the bed, Phineas twitched a bit, then rolled over onto his stomach.

 _And..._

She looked over to where he lay, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he slept.

 _Hm. He is pretty cute. And it was really nice waking up with him this morning. I wonder if that will become a regular thing. I could get used to that. Might even make it worth staying a little longer._

Smiling, Isabella closed her eyes to go to sleep.

* * *

The dead body stood, its missing pieces flickering in and out of this dimension, joining the legion of the doomed that paced after him.

"No," Phineas said. "Stay back!"

"You killed me," the newest corpse said in an eerie warbling voice. Its jaw faded in and out of existence as it tried to speak.

"I didn't realize. I was trying to end the war," Phineas said, turning to run. He tripped over a tree root, and rolled over to watch the lurching zombies come closer. His ankle was caught in the tree root, and he struggled to free it.

"You killed me," another warbled, and another, dozens of them. "You killed me," came from behind him; looking back, he saw dozens more surrounding him.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling on his leg.

"Phineas," someone said in a clear, female voice.

"I'm sorry," Phineas said again.

The lead zombie had caught him, and was shaking his shoulder. "Phineas, wake up," she said in Isabella's voice.

His eyes snapped open. The bedroom was dark, with faint lights from the city coming in through the windows. The pillowcase was wet with sweat underneath his head. Isabella was leaning over him, concern on her face. "You were having a nightmare," she said.

"Yeah," he said. "Sorry."

"You said that. Repeatedly. What are you so sorry about?"

"I...I shouldn't talk about it," he said, lying back. Isabella snuggled herself into his side, and he gripped her shoulders tightly for reassurance. "Security."

"I understand," she said. "You said you were making up for what you'd done. Is it related to that?"

"Yeah." He pondered, making a decision. "Look, you can't tell anyone about this, okay? But I need to talk to somebody, and..."

"And I'm here."

"Yes." He took a deep breath. "Ferb and I invented the tumbler bomb."

Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull back in horror like he expected. "So...you feel guilty about that?"

"I was dreaming that everyone killed by one was chasing me. I couldn't get away." He shuddered, and her arm across his chest tightened.

"It was just a nightmare," she said.

His breathing slowed as he relaxed. "I think you're not the only one who needs company at night right now."

* * *

Isabella woke up to the first slivers of light coming into the room. Phineas was spooned against her back again, his slow breathing brushing against her neck. It was...really nice. She hadn't had someone share her bed regularly since Sophie...she shoved that thought away. Sophie was gone, she wasn't, and Sophie would want her to go on.

She gently lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, grabbing a sports bra out of the dresser. She looked out over the city as she walked to the bathroom to do her business.

Afterwards, she put on the bra, grabbed a towel, and walked into the living room. There was enough space between the coffee table and the TV for her morning exercises. She'd missed them the previous day, but it was time to get back to them.

She lost herself in the routine - stretching and doing body-weight strength exercises. She briefly considered turning on her implants for high-speed exercises; they'd needed a lot of training to handle the unusual momentum issues with operating at high speed, and the scientists had developed a set of exercises that would help keep them mindful of their momentum. It was a bit too likely that Phineas would come out and see her, though, so instead she decided to just work through some katas.

"That was impressive," Phineas said from the hallway when she finished, and she jumped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He was leaning against the wall, wearing just his briefs.

"It's okay," she said, toweling off. _Not like it's anything he hasn't seen._ "Sorry, I tried not to wake you up."

"You didn't, I'd just slept myself out." He looked away, embarrassed. "Um, thanks for helping me last night. With the nightmare."

"De nada. Mind if I grab the first shower?"

"Feel free," he said.

She slipped past him into the bathroom, smiling.

* * *

He heard the water turn on, then a pause. "Phineas, how do you turn on the shower?" she asked.

"Pull down on the ring around the faucet," he said. Suddenly, the timbre of the water changed as the shower turned on.

"Thanks." The shower curtain rattled as he headed in to the kitchen.

As the coffee brewed, he remembered having a nightmare the night before, although he was a bit unclear on exactly what it had been. Something about the tumbler bomb.

And then Isabella had been there, warm and reassuring and just what he needed.

He'd woken up this morning, and she was gone. Part of him had wondered if her presence had all been a dream, if he'd made up the whole trip to Colorado.

He'd wandered out to the living room to find breakfast, only to find her stretching. He'd seen her naked, but somehow, watching her body move around in her minimal workout clothes had been...well, sexy, much as he hated to admit it. He didn't find people sexy very often. He'd have to avoid watching her like that, or he'd find himself wondering about that dubious line of consent. He didn't want to do that.

Five more years of celibacy was fine; he'd gone that long since Holly already. And if he was interested in Isabella by then, and she wished to stay...well, at that point, he'd have no qualms.


	5. Project Dewdrop

"So, what do you want to do during the week?" Phineas asked as they lay in bed, Sunday night. They'd spent the weekend together, making sure Isabella had what she needed and sharing histories. A visit to his mother's house had led to stories of things the two of them had done when they were very little. They'd had a video call with his sister, Candace, and her daughter, Amanda, as well. Candace had moved to England after her husband had been captured by Columbia, enslaved, and then killed for leading an escape attempt. She'd gone to visit Ferb's family, and being away from the war had been relief enough that she'd decided to stay.

"You're in charge," Isabella said, her body draped across his own. After the nightmare, and going to sleep holding each other afterwards, he'd given up on the idea that they could share the bed without being in contact with each other. They didn't do anything beyond that, though. He could cope with this much without worrying too much about forcing Isabella to do things. She seemed to like it as well. "I can stay here if you'd like, or run errands for you, or come into the office to help Carla...?"

"How about helping Carla, then?"

"Okay. That sounds fine. Less boring, at least."

"Only until Carla talks your ear off."

* * *

Isabella was filing some paperwork for Carla when the phone rang. "Yes, Betty?" Carla asked. "Oh, my, I'll let them know. Thank you, Betty!" She hung up the phone and turned to Isabella. "Izzy, dear, can you go tell the boys that General Archer is on his way up?"

"Sure, Carla," Isabella said, heading back into the lab area. Phineas was sitting in front of a computer, arguing with Ferb, who was leaning over his shoulder and pointing at the screen. "Hey, Carla says a General Archer is coming up, and I should let you know."

The sudden silence as the argument ended was almost spooky. "Thanks, Isabella," Phineas said. "Tell Carla to send him right in, we're ready for him." Ferb was already moving toward his office.

Isabella returned to the upper-floor lobby just as the elevator opened with a _ding_. A short, stocky man with lightly-tanned skin and a ring of white hair around his head came out, wearing a Central general's uniform with two stars on the shoulder. "Morning, Carla," he said, nodding to her. "And...Carla, what's a slave doing here?"

"Oh, that's just Isabella," Carla said, and Isabella nodded her head to him. "Mr. Flynn bought her on his trip to Colorado, and she's helping with the filing. Izzy, are they ready back there?"

"Yes, they are," Isabella said. "You can go right in, General."

He frowned at her briefly before shaking his head and heading back into the lab.

"So who's he?" Isabella asked, nodding her head toward the door that had just closed.

"Oh, he's the boys' contact in the Tower." Seeing Isabella's confused look, Carla continued, "The Tower? A chunk of the Willis Tower got claimed by the military after what happened in Washington, so instead of the Pentagon, it's the Tower now."

Isabella nodded.

"Anyhoo, General Archer is in charge of some special projects, and the boys get some nice fat defense contracts out of the deal, so everybody's happy! Well, except the other side when the boys come up with something big, but we're all on one side now, so that's not a problem any more."

Isabella looked at the door and said, "Thanks, Carla," before returning to her filing.

* * *

"Phineas, good to see you!" General Archer said as he came in.

Phineas smiled at him. "General, welcome. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Ferb came out of his office, smiling as well. "I just heard that the surrender talks have completed and formal signatures are coming soon," he said.

Phineas looked up. "Wait, really? That's great!"

"Really," the general said. "War's over, boys, but I have a new project for you. Remember that computer I sent you to unscramble? Well, after the cease-fire, we got a hold of the data another way."

Phineas gestured to a seat nearby, as Ferb took a seat on the corner of a convenient desk. "Is this more important than the tumbler shield?" Ferb asked.

"Absolutely," the general said. "We don't think anyone else is even close to tumbler technology, so we don't have any need to defend against it yet. Put that one on the back burner for now."

Phineas nodded. "Okay, what've you got?"

"You remember that assassin we caught here? The one with the enhanced strength and speed, that suicided when we captured her?"

Phineas and Ferb both nodded with a grimace. That had been shortly after the attempt on them that had killed their father, in the parking lot in front of the building. They'd expected another attempt, and set a trap.

"She was part of something called Project Dewdrop. Somebody deleted the info on it from the Sweaty servers before we got to them, but we have a few fragmentary bits from the intelligence we gathered during the war. Here's what we know so far: she was codenamed Sierra Six. We think the one who planted the bomb here was from Dewdrop as well, codenamed Echo Three."

"Are the codenames significant in any way?" Phineas asked.

"Analysis believes they indicated specialties. Echo unit specialized in penetrating electronic and computerized security systems. Sierra unit specialized in sniping and aerial insertion. India specialized in social engineering and seduction. All of them were cross-trained, though, and they all had physical enhancements." The general sat back and looked across at Phineas. "We think that some of the Dewdrop troops are out there, possibly rogue. There's currently three unaccounted for. In particular, Echo Three might still be out there, and may have a grudge. Analysis believes that Echo Three and Sierra Six were lovers."

Ferb stiffened, his eyes going hard.

Phineas frowned. "How the hell does Analysis know that but nothing else about them?"

Archer pointed to Phineas. "Good question. Some of the records we found say that Echo Three was mission control for Sierra Six on her last mission. And Sierra Six's last words as she tripped the self-destruct were..."

"'I love you too,' as I recall," Ferb said. "Presumably Echo Three knew what was coming."

Phineas nodded. "Huh. Okay, then. I guess we're your men for this job."

Archer clapped Phineas on the shoulder. "Good man. I want you two to piece together what you can. This is a new top-secret project - nobody but the three of us is to know anything about what you work on. Codename Sledgehammer. You report directly to me. Usual consulting rates. Plan to present what you've found in about two or three weeks."

"Sure thing, General. When can we start?" Phineas asked.

"Right now, boys." He placed a USB drive on the desk. "This has copies of all our current data. This can never go onto a networked system. Remember that Echo Three is a specialist in computer penetration, and we can't let him know we're after him. Now, I shouldn't need to say this, but that new piece in the lobby..."

"Piece?" Phineas asked, puzzled. Ferb rolled his eyes.

"The slave girl. She's not even remotely cleared for this."

Phineas said, "Oh, right. Yeah, I understand. We haven't been working on anything sensitive recently, so it hasn't been a problem, but we'll make sure she's locked out of this stuff. I do understand how important security is on something like this."

"Good. Because if she finds out you're hunting Dewdrop, and tells some other slave, then next thing you know half the Sweaties have heard and Echo Three runs for Canada."

"That would never do," Ferb said coldly. "We want him here. Maybe even in one piece. At least at first."

General Archer grinned widely. "I'm glad we're all on the same page."

* * *

The company cafeteria had been as good as Phineas had promised, and Isabella was finally feeling like she'd caught up on her calorie deficit. Ferb had raised his eyebrows at her appetite, and she'd waved it off by saying it was a really nice change from MREs. _I need to be careful not to give myself away from my metabolism._

A computer had been delivered for her desk, next to Carla's, and they'd given her limited access to the internal network. She poked at the restrictions on it, confirming that a naïve attempt to break out would work but probably set off alarms. She'd have to arrange for a protected way to do research for escaping to Canada.

Danville was a nice enough place, and Phineas was being far too nice to her, but she needed a way out. Every day she spent in America was one more day that an attempt to track down Project Dewdrop might find her.

She still remembered the day she'd been claimed by the project. She'd been just sixteen, and with the war entering its second decade as a four-way stalemate, every faction was trying to find a new way to break things wide open. The orphanage had had all the older children line up for an inspection, and a colonel had led two scientists around to look at them all. Half the children had been sent back immediately; Isabella had been pleased not to be one of them. _More fool me._

They'd had the remaining children do physical exercises, while the scientists watched. Every now and then, the scientists would confer and one of the children would be sent back.

Finally, it was just four of them left. Isabella and Sophie, Tim and Anthony. The colonel told them to line up again. Sweaty in her workout gear, Isabella wondered what the next challenge was.

"We'll take these four," one of the scientists said. "Congratulations, children. Welcome to the Southwestern Concord Federal Army."

Since they were already wards of the state, that was all it took; they left the orphanage that day, and never looked back.

She startled out of her reverie as Carla turned off her computer for the night. "Five o'clock!" she chirped, taking her purse and heading toward the elevators. "See you tomorrow, Izzy."

"Have a good night, Carla," Isabella said, wondering how long Phineas was going to be busy.

* * *

Phineas and Ferb had taken over a spare office - one which had opaque walls instead of windows - to hold their new project. The door was palmprint-locked and only accessible to the two of them.

"I wonder if we should lock it down more than that," Ferb said. "From what we know about Echo Three..."

"Look, if he can learn that we're trying to track him down, find this room, and crack into it, we're already so doomed that it isn't even funny."

Ferb paused for a moment, and nodded.

"So what's your plan for the night?" Phineas asked as they closed up the room.

Ferb shrugged. "I might just go home and rest. I had a busy weekend. You? Going to finally take advantage of what you've got?"

"Of course not, Ferb. I'm not a rapist."

"It's not rape. Legally, at least."

"I don't give a damn about the legality. She's a person, and...who knows, after I free her in five years, maybe we can start a real relationship."

Ferb stopped and looked at Phineas. "You really believe that, don't you? That she won't be out the door before the ink's dry on the paperwork freeing her?"

Phineas sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. If I knew what I wanted, maybe I could make it happen."

Ferb shook his head. "See you tomorrow," he said, and turned to the private elevator.

Phineas headed out to the lobby, where Isabella was playing on her computer. She jumped when he came in, and gave him a smile. "Ready for some dinner?" he asked.

"Very. I'm starving," she said.

"I was thinking Indian tonight. Sound okay?" he asked, leading her back to the private elevator.

"Works for me," she said.

* * *

Isabella lay in the circle of Phineas's arm, listening to his slow, even breathing. She pondered trying to get out of bed and working on her research, but...there was plenty of time. She still needed to track down the tools to neutralize her collar, although those would be easy enough to liberate from Phineas and Ferb's lab. The hard part was going to be making it almost a thousand klicks to the Canadian border without getting recaptured. If she got caught, they'd definitely scan her more thoroughly, and the odds were high that they'd find her implants. At that point, the game would be up, and the rest of her life would be spent as a miserable lab rat. Not that that life would be terribly long, most likely.

She needed to find a way to get away with a couple days lead time. Given 48 hours, she could be in Canada before they ever knew she was gone. It'd be annoying getting past the internal checkpoints, but she'd done that before on missions, and the troops manning them would be paying less attention because the war was "over". Easy enough to avoid most of them by skipping the highways, anyway.

The next problem would, ideally, be keeping Canada from scanning her, but that was a risk for the future. The Canadian military wouldn't be expecting her, since she was sure the Central military hadn't shared their research on Dewdrop with anyone, and the project had been beyond Top Secret in the Southwestern military.

Phineas would probably get in trouble for a runaway slave. She hated doing that to him, but...

He was being so nice to her. Far better than she deserved. If he knew what she'd done, he'd probably treat her like...well, like a slave. She'd seen how slaves got treated while on missions here. Many were forced to grovel at their owner's feet like dogs; some weren't even that lucky. And most slaves weren't even owned by individuals, instead being used as disposable labor in factories and mines, or being rented out by the hour or day as "escorts".

Instead, she got to sleep next to a man who would do nothing without her consent, and who seemed to feel that for her to give consent, she'd have to be free. Having him on her side would be helpful, and if it was just as companions, she'd take it. He had contacts high in the Central military, that much was obvious.

General Alexander Archer was head of special research, and Dewdrop had had two missions to take him out. Sierra Five had been waved off when increased countermeasures indicated that the Centrals suspected an attack, and Anthony - India Two - had been captured while attempting to infiltrate his office. He had been the first Dewdrop teammate captured, and the first they'd had to trigger the Liquidator on. Archer had been off-limits after that. She wondered what he needed to talk to Phineas and Ferb about, but it probably wasn't important to her.

She sighed, and Phineas sleepily ran his hand along her back to calm her. She smiled, holding in a laugh so as not to disturb him. He really was too good for her.

* * *

"It'll be fine. It's just Ferb," Phineas said as they got out of the elevator. "It's just our weekly Thursday night dinner get-together. A way for the two of us to catch up away from work. We missed last week because I was in Colorado..." He trailed off, embarrassed.

Isabella smiled back at him nervously, running through all the calming exercises she'd been taught. "I know. You're sure he won't mind me coming along?"

"It'll be fine," Phineas repeated. Ferb's apartment was in a smaller building than Phineas's, but his door was one of only two on the top floor. Phineas led Isabella to the door, knocking sharply. It unlocked with a _click_ as Ferb opened it. He smiled at Phineas, then raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward Isabella.

"I figured it'd be good to bring her along, at least once. Since she's stuck with me, you know," Phineas said.

Ferb nodded, and stepped aside to let them in. "Dinner's about fifteen minutes out," he said. "Welcome to Chez Ferb, Isabella."

She bowed her head to him. "Thank you, Ferb. It's lovely." It was an understatement, if anything, and he just smiled in response.

Ferb's living room was about the size of Phineas's, with one wall covered with windows overlooking the city. A second wall had a glass patio door leading out to a large balcony. The decor was much more traditional than Phineas's clean contemporary furniture, with a large overstuffed chair sitting in front of several large bookcases that were even more overstuffed than the chair. A table next to the chair held even more books. An oak entertainment center held the audio/video system, and two couches were placed at good viewing angles. Where the remaining walls weren't covered with books, they held picturesque paintings of the English countryside.

"I felt we could eat outside," Ferb said, returning to the large kitchen that overlooked the living room. "The weather's still nice, so we should enjoy it while it lasts."

"Sounds nice," Phineas said. "Come on out, Isabella, I'll show you the sights from here while Ferb finishes up."

She followed him out to the balcony, which had a panoramic view of downtown Danville at night. The city center glowed with activity. Traffic ebbed and flowed along the major streets below, diamond and ruby lights floating through the darkness. Several tall buildings shone with their own lights; one oddly-shaped tower caught Isabella's eye.

"What's that building?" she asked, pointing towards it.

"That's the Doofenshmirtz building," Phineas said as Ferb joined them on the balcony, carrying place settings.

"Doesn't sound familiar," Isabella lied. _Right. Tyfani's first mission, taking out one of Central's top researchers. Echo group's first kill._

"Heinz Doofenshmirtz. He was another scientist working for Archer. Came up with a couple interesting developments. Enough that somebody targeted him - we never did find out exactly who."

"He had this awful jingle whenever you entered his building," Ferb said.

"Oh, God, yes. 'Doofenshmirtz Research, Incorporated!'" Phineas sang. Ferb glared and rolled his eyes.

"What happened to him?" Isabella asked.

"Somebody sabotaged his last device. We think they reversed the wiring between the activation button and the self-destruct button," Phineas said.

"Why did he even put a self-destruct button on it in the first place?" Ferb muttered.

Phineas shrugged. "He felt it was traditional, for whatever reason. Anyway, that wouldn't have been enough, normally, but they added in some extra explosive for good measure. The damage was repaired, but a good part of the top floor was destroyed."

"And then his daughter decided she couldn't stay here," Ferb said darkly. Shaking his head, he went back into the apartment.

"Daughter?" Isabella asked, confused.

Phineas stared off over the railing. "Ferb had a crush on Heinz's daughter Vanessa back when we were ten or so, and we've all been friends since. Heinz's death was about six months after Gretchen was killed, so he went over to console her and see if they could work through their grief together. Apparently she had left right after the funeral. Her mother had moved to Canada to get away from the war, so Vanessa joined her. And she never came back."

"Ouch. Was he planning on romance with her?"

Phineas laughed bitterly. "That's the silly part. No, not really, he just wanted to be friendly with her. I do think that if she'd stayed, maybe they'd have ended up together. It would have been good for him. But, I can't blame her for not wanting to stay."

Ferb returned, bearing a loaf of fresh bread, a cutting board, and a bread knife. "Dinner in five minutes," he said.


	6. Holly

**Note: this chapter and the next are likely to be more triggery than most.**

 **Trigger warnings for this chapter: loss of autonomy, slavery, discussion of rape.**

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Phineas said, looking at the invitation and tossing it onto his desk.

Ferb shrugged. "I'm just the messenger."

"I know. Not your fault. It's just - I don't even want to go to this damn dinner in the first place. Eat rubber chicken and shake hands with people I wouldn't spend ten minutes with if I didn't have to. And for some stupid reason everyone is supposed to bring a slave along as their 'date' while we schmooze with politicians?"

Ferb took a deep breath. "You do realize that some of the politicians are likely to want to..." Ferb tapped his lips, as if searching for the right word. "Borrow Isabella for the night, right? And that, politically, that would be a good thing for you to do?"

Phineas sat back in his chair. "Not a chance. I wouldn't ask her to do that."

"You don't have to ask. You own her. Remember?"

"There isn't a day that passes when I don't remember that, Ferb."

Ferb paused, looking agog. "Wait, you mean you _still_ haven't..."

"I have not, Ferb. I _will not_ force her to do that. And until she has a real choice, I can't be sure I'm not forcing her."

Ferb shook his head. "Only you, Phineas. Only you."

"I don't see why you can't go instead."

"I don't have a slave. And I really don't have an interest in buying one. So unless you're planning to rent Isabella to me for the night..."

"No."

"You really should do this, Phineas. If nothing else, it should help you sort out how you should be treating your slave."

"What, I shouldn't be treating her like a person?"

"It doesn't seem to be working so far."

"It's working fine, thank you very much. Just because I'm not jumping her doesn't mean we aren't doing fine living together."

Ferb shook his head. "I've delivered the invitation. The rest is up to you." He turned and left.

Phineas stared at the invitation. **Mayor Jason 'Dutch' Abercrombie cordially invites you to the 3rd annual Danville Slave Owners' Dinner and Dance...**

 _Pfeh._ He pushed the intercom button. "Isabella, can you come into my office please?"

"Sure thing, Phineas," her voice came over the speaker. A moment later, she walked in, beautiful as ever in a trim grey skirted business suit and low heels. "What can I do for you?"

"Close the door, please," he said, and she closed it before sitting down, carefully crossing her legs. One of her shoes slipped off her heel, and she dangled it from her toes absently. He tore his eyes away and said, "I...we...have been invited to this Slave Owners' Dinner and Dance thing at City Hall, tomorrow night. Apparently everybody does meet-and-greet crap with the local business leaders and politicians."

Isabella shrugged. "If you'd like. Whatever."

"I wouldn't like, but apparently it would be a politically wise thing to do. All six Senators from the Tri-State Area will be there, and our funding is up for renewal soon." He paused, a sour taste in his mouth. "Apparently part of the goal here is for the owners to get together...trade slaves for the night, or arrange for later trades."

Isabella's mouth curled up distastefully. "If you say I must."

"No. I'm just warning you that there may be that expectation. I will do everything in my power to protect you from it."

"If that's an issue, why go at all?"

Phineas sighed. "General Archer wrangled me this invite to go meet the local movers and shakers. I can't not go, and I can't go without you. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "So we make the most of it. I half expected to get sold to a brothel, so I'm still way ahead of the game. If I end up spending some time with someone else, it's not a tragedy."

 _It is to me_ , the thought came to him, and he wasn't quite sure where that came from, but he knew he meant it.

"I'm likely to need to treat you like property, at least verbally," he said. "I apologize in advance for that."

She shrugged. "I _am_ property. Your property. If that's what you want to do, I can't exactly stop you."

"I don't want to. I don't want to go to this thing at all. But..." He trailed off, giving her a helpless look.

* * *

She'd convinced him she needed a new dress for the party, and he'd readily agreed. She'd picked out a low-cut lavender gown that had made his eyes pop when he saw her in it, and she'd laughed as he'd tried to recover his composure.

He wasn't looking so bad himself. Ferb had sent him to a tailor for a custom suit, and the results were stunning. The suit was an elegant shade of medium grey, perfectly-fitted, with a two-tone striped blue shirt and a solid blue silk tie. He'd added a tie pin he inherited from his father, and a pocket watch hung from a gold chain off his waist.

"If you're feeling uncomfortable, or somebody's trying to force you into something, please let me know. If they're keeping you from telling me, you have my permission to defend yourself," he said earnestly, trying not to stare down the neckline of her dress. _He could see me naked with a word, but something about the coverage makes it irresistible to him._

 _I'll have to remember that._

"Thank you," she said, taking his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's," he said, leading her out of the apartment.

* * *

Phineas felt out of place among the crowd. Most of the other owners were older than him, and the slaves had by and large been told to be seen and not heard. He wasn't really sure what to say to the other people that were supposedly his peers.

They'd passed through the new, enhanced security scanners into City Hall without an issue. If he hadn't known they were there, he'd have never noticed them. They were necessary, though; Mayor Abercrombie had run on a platform of increasing the use of slaves within the Tri-State Area, and was very public about his ownership and use of slaves. Various anti-slavery groups had decided that he was their primary target, and had made it clear that they would protest or even attack him if they could. The police moved around the building, and a plainclothes security detail kept an eye on everyone. There were reports that there may be attempts to rescue slaves and sneak them to Canada on the underground railroad.

The owners were all dressed up formally, with the men in suits and women in evening gowns or equivalent. The slaves, on the other hand, varied widely. A little over half the slaves were women, and about a quarter of those were dressed like Isabella, in evening wear that matched what the female owners were wearing. About half of the male slaves, likewise, wore suits on par with Phineas's.

About half of the female slaves were wearing very abbreviated versions of evening wear - more like clubwear - with incredibly low-cut cleavage and hems just barely long enough to cover their assets. They tended to totter on extremely high heels, chasing after their owners with mincing steps.

The remaining half of the men and quarter of the women were in some form of restraint, and what little clothing they wore tended to be silk, leather, or latex. Congressman Michelson was leading his slave around on a leash, occasionally jerking the leash to make the young black man stumble. He wore just a tiny leather brief, while his arms were forced together by a leather single-glove behind his back, and his ankles were hobbled to allow him just tiny little steps. Any complaint he may have had about this was silenced by a large red ball gag tightly fastened in his mouth.

"Ah, Phineas, my boy, good to see you here," someone said. Phineas turned to see Mayor Abercrombie walking toward him, pale and rotund, followed by a young Japanese woman. Her hair had been dyed an auburn shade, and from the shape of her breasts under the tiny leopard-print lingerie she wore, he suspected she'd received breast implants. Her arms were held behind her back, but he couldn't see if there was anything keeping them there. "I was so pleased when Alex called and asked me to get you an invite."

"Alex?" Phineas asked, puzzled.

"General Archer, of course. We were in ROTC together back at Michigan State. So, I must know - where did you obtain that marvelous creature?" he asked, nodding toward Isabella.

Phineas bristled inside, keeping his smile on through sheer willpower. "Oh, I was out in Colorado just before the cease-fire, and hit an auction of just-captured Sweaties. And there she was."

The mayor laughed. "Got her at the source, eh? Makes sense. You know the middlemen siphon off the best of them for their corporate clients. There's some at the Saddle and Bridle Club downtown that are just _stunning_. They'll let you rent them, but they don't let you do the _really_ fun things with them." He leaned closer, conspiratorially. "You wouldn't be interested in, say, letting me borrow her for a bit, or maybe swapping with mine for a night or two, would you?"

Phineas gave Isabella a fond look, then looked back at the mayor. "No, not quite yet. I've only had her a week or so. But if I decide to loan her out, you'll be first on the list, okay?" _Never going to happen._

The mayor grinned enthusiastically. "It's a deal," he said. "You know, if you decide to sell her, prices are on the way up right now, because the war's ending. Hold off another month or two, and you can probably get top dollar for her."

"I'll keep that in mind," Phineas said. _Not a chance in hell._

"Mayor, I need you to look at this," a familiar female voice said from behind Phineas. He turned, and his heart dropped. He recognized her instantly, piercing brown eyes in dark brown skin. She'd straightened her curly black hair since he'd last seen her. She didn't notice him, focusing solely on the mayor.

"Can't it wait, Holly?" the mayor asked. "I'm conducting business here."

"Unfortunately, no," she said, thrusting a folder into his hands.

He flipped through it and grunted. "Fine, I'll go deal with this. Let's go, Missy. Remember my offer, Phineas," he said, marching off toward the exit, followed closely by his slave. As she turned, Phineas saw that her hands were held behind her with a pair of handcuffs.

Holly, realizing to whom the mayor had been speaking, turned to Phineas. A look of disdain flashed across her face, masked almost as quickly as it came. "I wouldn't have expected to see you here, Phineas," she said neutrally.

"Yeah, me either," Phineas said, scratching the back of his neck idly. "I kinda ended up here by accident..."

"How do you buy a slave by _accident_?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and pressing her lips together in disbelief.

"I...wasn't entirely sober, and I thought I'd recognized her, and they gave me a paddle, and...next thing I know I've won an auction. But, since I did, I'm taking responsibility for her. So I'm trying to get her through her five years without incident, but I got forced to come here to meet up with Danville's 'elite'." He remembered something, and brightened up suddenly. "Actually, come to think of it...does she look familiar to you? You should have been in Li'l Sparks together."

Holly looked over at Isabella, and realization dawned. "Maybe? I'm not placing a name, though."

"Isabella," Isabella said. "You look very vaguely familiar as well."

"She used to live across the street from me, before the war," Phineas explained.

"Right!" Holly snapped her fingers. "We used to have meetings at your house. Your mom made these incredible brownies."

"I thought I recognized her when I stumbled into the auction house, and...it turned out that my mother knew her on sight." He straightened up. "Anyway, Isabella, this is Holly, my ex-girlfriend, and...apparently working for the mayor now?"

Holly sighed deeply. "Yeah, I'm his administrative assistant, gopher, and general-purpose flunky. I didn't quite realize what I was getting into." She looked off in the direction the mayor had gone, a frown on her face, before looking back at Isabella. "He's likely to ask if he can borrow Isabella here, she's right up his alley. Do _not_ let him. He doesn't play nice."

"He asked, I told him no."

"Good." She paused, then a smile crept across her face. "Actually, you can use that. If anyone else asks to borrow or trade or what have you, tell them the mayor claimed dibs. He did, didn't he?"

"You know him. Yes, he did."

She grimaced. "You don't want to know why I know these things. I've barely worked for him for a year, and..." Her phone rang, and she glanced at it before answering. "Yes? Now? But..." She sighed deeply. "Be right there." She hung up and looked at Isabella. "I need to get going, but maybe the two of us can meet up for lunch tomorrow, just us girls?"

"I'd like that," Isabella said.

"Fine with me," Phineas said.

* * *

Holly had been right. Phineas had used the mayor's claim as an excuse to get out of any requests, and they'd been able to escape the party with no promises and no hard feelings.

Holly had suggested a small cafe downtown as a lunch destination. Isabella had been surprised - Phineas hadn't even paused before handing her the keys to his car. She drove to the cafe, noting that the weight of the armor made the car handle poorly.

Isabella found a table, and the waitress frowned at her collar before asking her what she'd like. "Just a sweet tea for the moment, I'm waiting for someone," Isabella said, pulling a menu out from behind the napkins and glancing over it.

Holly bustled in a moment later, just as the waitress was delivering her tea. "Oh, that looks great, Marion. One for me as well."

"Is she with you?" the waitress asked, nodding toward Isabella.

"Yeah. Long story." Holly smiled at Isabella as the waitress headed back to retrieve another iced tea. Isabella squeezed her lemon into the glass and took a taste of the sweet tea.

The waitress delivered another tea, then flipped open her order pad. "What'll it be, ladies?"

"Chicken caesar salad," Holly said without even looking at the menu.

"Turkey panini and a bowl of chili," Isabella said, putting her menu back.

The waitress nodded and carried the order back into the kitchen.

"So...what's up?" Isabella asked.

"I'm curious, and Phineas isn't going to give me straight answers. He never intended to trade you or anything last night, did he?"

Isabella laughed. "Not even close. He's uptight enough about consent that _he_ won't even do anything to me, much less let somebody else."

Holly gaped. "Wait. He's never touched you?"

"I wouldn't go _that_ far. His apartment only has one bed. But all we've done in it is sleep. And talk. Mostly sleep."

Holly closed her eyes, pinching her nose as she shook her head. "Oh, Phineas. I wish I could be surprised by this. Overprotective as always."

Isabella cocked her head. "Hm?"

"Did he tell you why we broke up?"

Isabella shook her head. "No, he didn't."

"When we were sixteen - we'd been dating about two years, were just about to start our junior year of high school - the military found out about the stuff he and Ferb had invented over the summers. He used to create these incredible things, and helped my Fireside Girls troop get a ton of patches."

"I always wanted to be a Fireside Girl," Isabella sighed. "There wasn't a troop I could really join from the orphanage, though. I really liked Li'l Sparks back before...before the war."

"It was pretty cool. Anyway, so he and Ferb got pulled out of school and put to work as weapons researchers. And...he decided that we wouldn't be able to see each other enough, with him working, so he broke up with me. For my own good, he said. Making sure I had a good high-school experience. You know, prom and all that."

"That...sounds like him."

The waitress returned with their lunches. "Here you go, ladies."

"Thanks, Marion," Holly said, and Marion smiled back before going to take another order.

Holly took a bite of her salad, then looked up at Isabella. "So, yeah, he's being protective. I never found a way to make him stop. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"We'll see." Isabella stuck the end of her sandwich into the chili, then took a bite.

Holly took a sip of tea, then sat back in her chair. "So what did you do? In the military?"

Isabella looked at her chili. "Ops. Paper pushing. Mostly." She looked up at Holly. "How about you? Did you serve?"

Holly nodded slowly. "The whole Fireside Girls troop volunteered together. At least here, they fed a lot of propaganda to groups like Fireside Girls, so we believed...well, the crap they pushed. Patriotism, duty, defending our homes, you know the line. Did you volunteer?"

Isabella laughed. "Never got a chance. I was a ward of the state, so they drafted me at 16. And then refused to let me leave."

Holly winced. "That's rough. I did my four and out. Ended up in tanks, as a gunner. Did pretty well, I think. Better than most in the troop, and when I got home, I got veteran's preference for the job at City Hall." Her face clouded. "Not that that was necessarily a good thing. But the mayor keeps me from getting recalled to service. And at least I came home, and in one piece. Not all of us could say that."

"I...understand. I wasn't the only one drafted from the orphanage. I was just the only one who made it out alive." She hooked her collar with a finger. "If not by much."

"God, I hate the whole slave thing. Like we didn't learn anything from a hundred fifty years ago. And they claim it's not a race thing, but you know who gets drafted, and who volunteers, and it isn't rich white men. Did...no, you wouldn't know her." Holly paused for a moment, then nodded as if making a decision. "I need to check with someone, but on Thursday nights we have a weekly get-together of the old Fireside Girls troop. Just hang out, watch TV, eat pizza, drink wine, and talk. Are you interested?"

"That sounds fun," Isabella said.

"I need to clear it with Katie, we have it at her house. And check with Ginger. She's...got bad history with collars, and it might trigger her."

"I wouldn't want to cause trouble," Isabella said. "And I need to check with Phineas, but I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"Knowing Phineas, I'm sure it won't."

* * *

Phineas paced the floor of the apartment, cursing himself. He'd asked Isabella to pick up some groceries on her way back from lunch with Holly. He hadn't thought about how she'd be treated, or...

A knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, and he rushed over to open it. Two police officers stood there, Isabella between them, her hands cuffed behind her back. "Mr. Flynn? Is this your property?" one of the officers, a tall Hispanic woman, said.

He winced inwardly at the phrasing, and nodded. "Yes, yes she is. Please come in, officers."

The other officer, a muscular olive-skinned man, shoved Isabella's shoulder, and she stumbled forward, into the apartment. The two officers followed her in.

"So, what happened?" Phineas asked. "I was just told there had been an incident, but nothing more than that."

The male officer pulled a pad out of his shirt pocket and flipped through it. "Mr. Flynn, as owner of this slave, did you give her permission to defend herself?"

"I..." He thought for a second, then said, "Yes, I did. Why?"

The two officers frowned at each other, and the female officer sighed. "Told you so," she said. She started rooting around in her belt.

The male officer nodded. "I'll send you the full incident report, Mr. Flynn, but apparently one of the patrons at Gunderson's Groceries decided she wasn't acting sufficiently obsequious, and wanted to take punishing her for this into his own hands. We have security camera video of the incident, and all indications at this time are that her actions were in self-defense."

The female officer roughly turned Isabella away from her, and unlocked the handcuffs, tucking them into the case on her belt. Isabella rubbed her wrists; Phineas could see the red marks in her skin where the cuffs had been tightened down.

"In this case, we'll leave her in your custody, but I'd suggest keeping this one on a shorter leash," the male officer said. "Please sign this receipt indicating we've returned her to you." He handed Phineas his pad and a pen; Phineas scribbled a signature and handed it back.

The female officer said, "Have a nice evening, Mr. Flynn." The two police officers left, closing the door behind them; Phineas reached over and flipped the deadbolt.

"I'm sorry," he and Isabella said simultaneously, and he laughed.

"No, really, I'm sorry," Isabella said, "it's just..."

"I'm the one who should apologize," Phineas said. "I forget that some people get a kick out of mistreating other people's slaves." He gestured toward the couch. "Please, sit. What happened?"

Isabella kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch, curling her legs up under herself. "I picked up the groceries like you asked, and got to the checkout. I don't know if you've seen that store recently, but there's a separate line for slaves to use; they have to wait until there are no citizens waiting to check out."

"Shit. Right. I hadn't really noticed, because..." Phineas sat down next to her, leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Because it didn't affect you."

"Right."

"So I'd gotten to the front of that line, and one of the cashiers was just waving me over when this guy rushes over and jumps in front of me. So I sighed. Really, that's all I did."

"I believe you."

"And he heard me, and whipped around and started yelling about how I should be grateful I was allowed to live and that he lost some good friends in the war and...you get the idea."

Phineas nodded.

"And then he tried to slap me. And...well, you _did_ say I could defend myself when we went to the party, and never told me I couldn't after that..."

Phineas laughed. "True enough."

"So I blocked it and took him down. And the next thing I knew, the police were there. He tried to claim I'd swung at him first, but the clerk said he'd clearly been trying to pick a fight."

"Okay. I promise I won't put you in that situation again. I am sorry about that, I just didn't think..."

"I know. I didn't either. I think we're still both getting used to this."

"We are."


	7. Pizza Night

**Note: This chapter is likely to be more triggery than most.**

 **Trigger warnings: death, loss of autonomy, slavery, discussion of triggers, discussion of rape.**

* * *

On Thursday night, Isabella headed over to Holly's apartment before pizza night. Phineas had been a bit worried about another incident, but eventually decided it was alright, as long as she went straight there and back. She parked the car outside, setting the alarm as she walked up to the lobby. Next to the button for apartment 22 was the name 'Washington'. Isabella pushed that button, and a moment later, Holly's voice came out of the speaker. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Isabella."

"Come on up. I'm on the third floor." The door buzzed, and Isabella opened it. Stairs led upward, and she followed them up to a door marked '22'. It opened as she got near, and Holly said, "Come on in."

Isabella looked around. Holly had a small studio apartment with a large window on one side. Under the window, a single bed lay on the floor, facing a small TV. A tiny kitchen sat off to the other side, next to an open door to a bathroom. The apartment was stark and neat, the few personal items clearly exactly where they belonged.

"I'm just about ready," Holly said, flipping through the DVDs on a shelf under the TV. "Got it." She pulled a couple discs out, tucking them under her arm. "Ready to go?"

"I am," Isabella said.

"It's just down the road, so I usually walk."

Katie's house was about two blocks away, one in a row of near-identical townhouses. Holly pressed the button, and Isabella saw a light flash through the small windows in the door as a buzzer sounded. A young blonde woman with pale skin and hearing aids opened the door, giving Isabella a quizzical look.

"She's the one I told you about," Holly said as Katie watched her lips. "Katie, this is Isabella; Isabella, this is Katie."

"Nice to meet you," Isabella said.

"Come on in," Katie said, a bit loudly. "Adyson's already here."

"Ginger said she'd try to stop by, but..." Holly nodded toward Isabella as they entered. "Trigger."

They entered into a hallway with coats and boots sitting by the door. Katie led them back into the living room, where a brown-haired young woman with lightly-tanned skin bounced a blonde infant, maybe six months old, on her lap as she sat on a couch. The room had baby toys piled in a box in the corner, and another couch with a television where both couches could see it. The child giggled at the play. The brown-haired woman looked up at Isabella, and her green eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You didn't say your guest tonight was one of _them_ ," the woman said bitterly. "Four years to the day from when Gretchen _died_ , for God's sake."

"Adyson, you remember the house we used to go to for Li'l Sparks? Across the street from Phineas and Ferb's? Before the girl and her family went to Santa Fe and got caught in the attack there?" Holly asked.

Adyson nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving Isabella.

"That was Isabella's house. Isabella, Adyson took over leadership of the troop after you left."

Adyson's eyes got wide. "But...but we were told she died!"

"I was trapped in rubble for a while, and it took them another couple weeks to figure out who I was. And by that time, the war had started," Isabella said. "I got sent to an orphanage, and drafted from there. I was sixteen."

The infant, realizing that his playmate had stopped playing with him, leaned toward Katie. Smiling, she leaned over and picked him up. "This is Little Dave," Katie said with a smile, nuzzling the little boy.

"So we get you instead of Ginger?" Adyson said.

"Ginger said she'd try to stop in," Holly said quickly.

Adyson nodded as Isabella sat on the couch across from her. Holly sat next to her as Katie sat next to Adyson.

"What happened to Ginger?" Isabella asked, and the other three women looked at each other awkwardly.

Katie said, "Let's not talk about it in front of the baby? Please?"

As if on cue, Little Dave started crying, and Katie unbuttoned her blouse to nurse him.

"May I ask where Big Dave is?" Isabella asked.

Katie paused as Holly and Adyson gave each other awkward looks.

"He didn't make it back," Katie said.

"I'm sorry," Isabella said.

"So what did you do during the war?" Katie asked. Adyson bristled.

"I worked in operations, pushing paper," Isabella said. "I got sent out to help clear out a command center before it got captured, but didn't quite get out in time." She paused, and muttered to herself, "Two days. Just two days, and I'd have been free. How about you?"

"Hmm?" Katie asked, looking up. "Sorry, I got a little too close to an artillery blast in Butte, and my hearing isn't what it was, even with the hearing aids."

"What did you do in the military?" Isabella asked, a little louder.

"Refueling and resupply for tanks," Katie said. "The Sweaties - oh, sorry, Southwesterners - pushed back a bit and got us in artillery range, and a lucky shot hit one of the fuel trucks. I saw it coming and ducked behind a tank, and that's the only reason I'm in one piece."

"How about you?" Isabella asked Adyson.

Adyson glared at her, then rapped on her right leg, which echoed like plastic through her jeans. "I drove trucks, carrying supplies around. Somebody near Cleveland planted an IED on the side of the road. They blew it a bit too early, which is why I've still got three limbs left. Lost a couple friends there. Not that you'd know about that in Ops."

Quietly, Isabella said, "Everyone I joined with is gone. I'm the only one left from the orphanage."

"Sorry," Adyson said. "That sucks. From the troop, we lost Gretchen, and Katie's ears, and my leg, and far too much of Ginger, and...a little bit of all of us, I think."

The doorbell rang, and a light on the wall flashed. "Pizza's here," Katie said. "Holly, can you get it?"

* * *

Ferb pulled the Cobra around to the entrance gate to Phineas's apartment building, and the gate opened obediently. He and Phineas had given each other access to each other's apartments, so that they could keep an eye on things while one or the other was out of town.

He gently accelerated through the open gate, pulling into the second space associated with Phineas's apartment. With a frown, he picked up the bag from the seat next to him, making the bottles clink.

The elevator ride to the top floor was brief, and a moment later he was knocking at Phineas's door.

"Come on in, Ferb!" Phineas called from inside his apartment.

Ferb sighed and punched the code Phineas had given him into the small keypad by the doorknob. _Can't even get off his ass to come open the door for me. Sometimes I think that's why he gave me the code in the first place._

There was an audible 'click' as the door unlocked, and Ferb swung it open with his free hand. Phineas stood by the stove, busily stirring something in a pot. The smell of custard wafted over. "Sorry I couldn't get the door, I need to keep stirring this or it'll burn on the bottom," Phineas said.

Ferb raised an eyebrow and smiled. "You're going domestic?" he asked, setting the bag on the counter.

"I felt like it. Isabella's inspired me to cook more often." Phineas turned off the burner and pulled the pot off of the stove. "What's in the bag?"

"It's the twenty-eighth of September," Ferb said quietly.

"Okay, so...oh." Phineas said. "Yeah. Four years?"

Ferb pulled a bottle of gin out of the bag, then added a bottle of tonic. A pair of limes completed the tableau. "Four years."

"Does it hurt any less?" Phineas asked as he pulled two highball glasses out of the cupboard.

"A little," Ferb lied.

* * *

"So I said, 'I'm deaf, not stupid,'" Katie said, and the rest of the women laughed.

Isabella sat back with another slice of pizza, smiling. She hadn't had a night like this for months at least, maybe years. The last few months with Dewdrop had been a fight for resources and attention from the new higher-ups while their numbers dwindled. There had been casual nights in the bunker lounge, though, before then, where the scientists and troops had hung out, eaten junk food, and watched bad movies.

"So," Holly said, looking at Isabella. "What's it like living with Phineas?"

Katie returned from putting Little Dave down for the night, carrying a bottle of wine and four glasses. "What's this about Phineas? I'm amazed you got him into bed so quickly," she said, "Given how long it took Holly to get anywhere with him in high school." Holly glared at her as she poured the wine.

"We share a bed because he only has one, but he refuses to do anything but sleep," Isabella said, taking a glass of wine.

Adyson laughed. "That's Phineas, alright. What's his excuse this time?"

"He doesn't want to force me into anything."

Katie sat down with her own glass, shaking her head. "You do realize how fucking lucky you got when he bought you, right?"

"I am _completely_ aware how lucky I got, yes. Unreasonably lucky. Much, much more than I deserve. I saw a whole lot of people in worse situations at the Owners' Ball last weekend. The woman following the mayor around - Holly, what was her name? Missy?"

Holly grimaced. "Mitsuko, but that's too complicated for him, so he calls her Missy. Yeah, parading her around in next to nothing all the time."

"Is he responsible for those breast implants, too?"

"Oh, God, yes. They're way too big, but..." Holly shook her head.

"Still better than what happened to Ginger," Adyson said darkly, taking a drink.

"What did happen?" Isabella asked.

Adyson looked around at the other women, then sighed. "She got captured by Dixie. She's Japanese, so I guess they decided she was 'exotic'. She ended up sold to folks making propaganda movies. Pornographic ones."

" _Kinky_ pornographic ones," Holly added.

"Oh, God," Isabella said, her eyes wide, covering her mouth with her hand.

Adyson continued, "If you do a search for 'Central Agent Kumi', they made about a dozen movies before she got liberated. They're all the same basic plot - ditsy agent tries to sneak in somewhere, gets caught, and the guards torture and rape her."

"It got worse as time went on," Holly said. "They kept trying to find ways to make it more extreme. The tortures got worse, there were more men involved. The reason they only made a dozen is that it took time for the bruises to fade and the damage to heal. She's...more than a bit broken inside. There's a lot of things that trigger her. Slave collars, cigarettes, knives, Dixie uniforms, large groups of men..." She laughed mirthlessly, staring into her wine.

"Dogs," Adyson said quietly, and the other women shuddered.

"Thank God for Buford," Katie said, and the other women nodded. "He's been a rock for her all along."

"Especially when some asshole tries to track her down for some reason," Holly added. "The movies are all online in various places, because...well, there's folks who get off to that sort of thing. She's got _fans_ , if you can believe it. Including the Mayor, of course. I think he bought Mitsuko because she looks kinda similar. Anyway, when he met Ginger, he started asking if she'd be willing to replay some of his favorite scenes with him, and..."

"And Buford spent the night in jail for decking him," Adyson said proudly.

"She said she'd try to make it over tonight, but...I said if she needed to bring Buford along, that was fine," Holly said. "I hope that's all right with everyone." Adyson and Katie both nodded.

"Buford's her...boyfriend? Husband?" Isabella asked.

"Boyfriend, more or less?" Adyson said. "He was a friend of ours back in school, but the two of them were never involved. But she got back and met up with him, and he just went into total papa bear mode over her. They've lived together since, and he supports her, because...she can't really work. I don't know if they're really...you know, boyfriend-girlfriend, or if he's just taking care of her because it's what he does. You don't see her without him very often."

Holly's phone buzzed, and she looked at it. "Speak of the devil. They're on their way over. Buford wants us to save some pepperoni for him."

A few minutes later, the light flashed as the doorbell rang. Katie got up to open the door, and came back leading a tall, broad-shouldered young Caucasian man with long brown hair. He looked at Isabella questioningly before leaning out into the hallway. "I think it's as okay as it's gonna get."

"Thanks, Buford," a quiet voice said, and a medium-height Japanese woman came in. She wore a baggy Tri-State State sweatshirt that came down to mid-thigh, and jeans underneath. Her breath caught as she saw Isabella. Her eyes fixed on the collar, and Isabella could tell she was trying to force herself to calm down.

"Hi," Isabella said softly. "I'm Isabella. I don't think I remember you from when I lived here before."

"No, she moved here just after you...left," Holly said.

"I'm Ginger," the woman said. "Do...do they hurt you?" She looked very concerned about this.

"No," Isabella said. "Phineas bought me to keep me safe."

Ginger sighed wistfully as Buford rubbed her shoulder. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ginger said quietly. She smiled at Isabella. "I think I'm okay."

* * *

"Hey," Phineas said from the chair as Isabella came through the apartment door. "Have a good time?"

On the couch, Ferb snored. Phineas had placed him with his head hanging to the side, so that if he vomited, he wouldn't choke on it.

"Yeah," she said, kicking off her shoes.

"They're all doing okay?"

She hung the car keys by the door. "As much as can be expected. I got to meet Ginger and Buford as well."

"Oh, that's cool. They're doing okay?"

"As well as can be expected, at least. What's up with Ferb?"

"It's the four-year anniversary of Gretchen's death." He burped, the smell of tonic water going back up his nose. "Excuse me. There's cream puffs on the counter if you want some."

"Thank you," she said, taking a few. She popped one into her mouth, mumbling, "Mmmmm. You're getting good at baking."

"I figured you'd appreciate them. Ferb wasn't that interested, he mostly needed to forget about Gretchen for a bit."

She curled herself into the chair, her legs tucked beneath herself, and he tried not to be distracted by the bare skin showing under the skirt she was wearing. "What happened to Gretchen? I've heard the name a few times, but I didn't get any details."

Phineas nodded sadly. "She started dating Ferb in high school, then joined the military with the rest of the Fireside Girls. Ferb tried to talk her out of it, said she could come work for us, but she didn't want..." He paused, looking for the words.

"Didn't want to be seen as just Ferb's kept woman?"

"Something like that."

Isabella nodded. "She didn't make it back?" She ate another cream puff.

"No. She was killed in the Battle of Pittsburgh, just a year later." He looked over at Ferb, still out cold. They'd gone through most of the bottle of gin, but while Phineas had made his drinks weaker and weaker as the night had gone on, Ferb's had gotten stronger. Phineas was still somewhat buzzed, but Ferb had passed out half an hour before. "He's okay most of the time - it's mostly her birthday and the anniversary of her death when he has problems."

"Was that when Ferb started his thing about three dates? After she..."

Phineas laughed without humor. "Yes. He doesn't want a commitment because they just hurt too much."

"I understand where he's coming from."

"You've mentioned a Tim, and a Sophie. Can..." He hiccuped, then shook his head. "Can I ask what happened to them? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

Isabella looked down for a moment. "Tim was a guy in the orphanage. We dated a bit in high school, nothing really important. Sophie was..." She paused, as if trying to look for the words. "She came from the orphanage too. We got drafted together, and ended up in the same unit. She was my best friend, and when the whole world seemed to fall apart, we were there for each other. And then..." She wiped water out of her eyes. "I lost her."

"What...what happened to her? Or..."

"They sent her out to do something. They didn't tell me what. She never came back."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled at him wanly. "Thanks. I think I understand how Ferb feels on this. It's hard to move on sometimes." Taking a deep breath, she stood up. "However, unlike _some_ people, I need to go to work tomorrow, so I'm going to go to bed."

Phineas stood as well. "Yeah, I hear your boss is a total slave driver."

Isabella gave him an extremely unamused look as she hooked a finger in her collar.

"Shit! Sorry," he said. "I wasn't...I didn't think..."

She laughed and led the way down the hall.


	8. Machinations

**Trigger warning: suicide**

* * *

The intercom beeped, and Phineas's voice came out of it. "Isabella, can you come into my office, please?"

She pushed the button, saying, "Sure, be right there." She stood up and brushed down her skirt. She hadn't had much chance to wear anything at all dressy except on missions, and had come to enjoy it. She headed out of the lobby as Carla shook her head. _Carla probably thinks he's getting a quickie on - or under - the desk_ , Isabella realized. _She couldn't be more wrong._ Isabella had been living with Phineas for two weeks now, and he still hadn't made a move on the slave girl in his bed. It was getting rather frustrating, to be honest. She did appreciate how he wanted to make sure it was something she did willingly, but it was clear that that just saying she consented wouldn't be enough.

Besides, she'd gone without for a year and a half now, since Sophie's last mission, and she could use a good screaming orgasm right about now.

That wasn't the only way he was frustrating her, either. She had very little private time - mostly when she was going to and from the girls' pizza night, or lunch with Holly. She couldn't stop and just buy the tools she needed, since they wouldn't sell them to slaves. She didn't have anywhere to put them where Phineas wouldn't find them, either.

And she couldn't complain about it, because she had no real reason why she should have any of that, at least that she could explain to him.

Phineas's office door was open. He was sitting at his desk, so she closed the door and took the seat across from him, crossing her legs and deliberately making sure her skirt draped appropriately. She dangled her low heel off her toes. She wasn't quite sure why she'd started this sort of passive-aggressive flirting with him. It didn't seem to help.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Ferb and I need to head up to Chicago for a couple days for some meetings with the general. Will you be okay here? He asked that we not bring 'extra people' along, by which I think he meant you."

She shrugged. "That's fine. Do you mind if I go to pizza night, tomorrow night?"

"That'd be fine. Might have you give us a ride to the air base, actually."

"If you'd like. If something goes wrong and I need official supervision, I'll call Carla and we'll get things sorted out."

"Oh, that'll work. I'll let Carla know as well. But I'm sure there won't be a problem."

"When do you need to leave?"

"I probably need to head back to the apartment now to grab clothes, actually. Why don't you go talk to Ferb and figure out if we need to give him a ride, and I'll go talk to Carla?"

Isabella nodded, then stood and opened the door. Phineas headed to the lobby as Isabella went next door to Ferb's office, knocking on the door.

"Enter," he said.

Isabella opened the door and went in. "I'm giving Phineas a ride to the air base, and he wanted me to check to see if you wanted one too."

Ferb paused for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, that would be good. I'll head home, so you can stop by and pick me up on your way there?"

"Sure thing." She turned to head out.

"Isabella, a moment?" Ferb asked.

Isabella paused with her hand on the doorknob, then turned to face Ferb. "Yes?"

"Do you love Phineas?"

She blinked, running possible answers through her head. "I've only known him a couple weeks. He's a really great guy, though. Much better than I deserve. I'm lucky he's the one who bought me."

Ferb nodded sagely, and she left the office.

* * *

Ferb sat across from Phineas in the military jet as they flew the short hop up to Chicago. His brother had, as usual, been mostly silent, so Phineas had busied himself playing around with ideas on how the known Dewdrop biomechanical implants could work. The fast reflexes seemed to be the most important, and the hardest to replicate.

"Phineas?" Ferb asked suddenly.

Phineas looked up questioningly. "Hm?"

"Do you love Isabella?"

Phineas sat back. "That's..." He pondered for a moment. "That's a good question."

"Which means I'm not getting a good answer."

"It does. I don't know, Ferb. Being with her feels, well, _right_ , but it's not like I've ever been any kind of expert on love."

"That you haven't. So I'll ask you this - if there weren't a consent issue, would you want to have sex with her?"

"I..." Phineas paused. "She's a very beautiful woman, Ferb."

"Yes, but you're you, and beauty doesn't mean much to you. I've seen you pass up offers from women just as beautiful."

Phineas sighed deeply. "I'm very comfortable with her, yes, but no, at this point, I'm still not really interested in having sex with her right now. Is that what you wanted to know?"

Ferb looked oddly smug. "Yes. Yes, it is."

 _I'm not interested...much_ , Phineas mentally corrected himself.

* * *

Isabella had gone back to the apartment after dropping the boys off at the air base, plans whirling in her head. It was Wednesday night, and they weren't expected back until Friday evening. She had two whole days to work on things without Phineas looking over her shoulder. Time to make the most of them.

He'd given her a laptop to use around the apartment, but she considered it highly likely that the military monitored his home network. Using a VPN would just broadcast that she was trying to hide something. She needed a way to unobtrusively do her research. Fortunately, she had ideas on that.

First things first - she set up a hidden virtual machine on the laptop, and configured it to snoop wireless data packets. There were three other wireless networks in range, so hopefully one of them had a weak password she could use. If that didn't work, she'd try more aggressive attacks on them, but there was no need to jump to that so quickly.

That done, she worked up a list of the tools she'd need to crack her collar open. She'd seen most of them around the lab, and getting them out through the private elevator would be trivial. Now, she just needed a place to hide them in the apartment.

She looked around the living room, but the clean lines of most of the furniture gave no hope for significant hiding spaces. The kitchen had plenty of storage, but Phineas used most of it when he tried to cook, so that was no good.

A quick check in the bathroom showed nothing promising there. She wandered into the bedroom, and the dresser made her suddenly smile. A quick investigation showed that there was an empty space underneath the bottom drawer that would probably hold everything she needed.

 _Now, I just need to gather my tools and plan a getaway. Next time Phineas heads out..._

* * *

Phineas lay in the hotel bed, the covers wrapped around him. He'd set his phone to play the sound of ocean waves, but it wasn't helping.

 _I miss having company_ , he thought. It was weird. He'd never had an issue going to sleep alone, not since he and Ferb had moved out of their parents' house to make it less of a target. Holly had never spent the night during their high-school romance.

But now, after just two weeks, he found he was lonely. He'd wrapped the covers around himself tightly to give himself the feeling of something pressed against himself, but it just wasn't the same.

 _Why is Ferb worrying about my feelings towards Isabella?_ he wondered. It wasn't like Ferb's relationship history was anything to write home about. He'd been planning to propose to Gretchen before she was killed in the Battle of Pittsburgh, and maybe something would have come from talking to Vanessa if that had panned out, but other than those two, it seemed like he'd refused to let anyone get close to him. He'd set a strict personal policy of never dating anyone more than three times. He claimed it was for their protection, since being with him put them in danger, but Phineas knew it was to keep himself from getting too close to anyone. If it had really been their safety, he would have waited until the bombing to do it.

Phineas rolled over, trying to get comfortable. Ultimately, whatever Ferb's issues were, what mattered to Phineas right now was his feelings for Isabella. And those were...complicated.

She was actually fun to hang around with. He enjoyed sitting around talking to her, or watching TV with her, or having lunch with her. And having her there when he woke up with a nightmare was very comforting.

And she was beautiful. He'd realized that intellectually back at the auction, but the more time he spent with her, the more he appreciated looking at her. Sometimes at dinner in the apartment, he'd find himself just looking at her, fascinated. She'd realize after a minute or two, and give him that shy little smile and look away.

He hadn't told Ferb the whole truth. He'd said he didn't want to have sex with her right now, but he was definitely getting there. Which was going to be a problem, because he still didn't want to force her into anything.

He wondered if she missed him the way he missed her. He could only hope.

* * *

"Isabella," the wet, gurgling voice called.

Isabella ran through the halls of the bunker, but every door was locked, every gate closed. She turned a corner and saw one door left, the door to the exit. She grabbed the handle and pulled, activating her implants to add strength, but it didn't budge.

"Isabella," the voice called again, closer. "Why did you kill me?"

She turned, dropping into a fighting crouch as if by instinct. The shambling corpse slumped around the corner. She tore her eyes away from it, searching for a way around. There was nothing. The zombie blocked the corridor, its arms fidgeting as if they were separately animated.

"Why did you kill me, Isabella?" it asked, its voice bubbling from fluid-filled lungs.

She looked it in what was left of its face, turned blue from suffocation. "I had to, Sophie," she said. "If I'd refused, they'd have killed you anyway, and then killed me too."

"You killed me," it said, drawing to a halt a few meters away. It no longer really resembled her lover; its skin was blue and mottled, and its limbs twisted around with bloated muscles underneath them.

"Yes," she said, looking at it and standing up out of her crouch. "I'm sorry."

"You killed me!" it shouted, leaping toward her, moving faster than even her enhanced reflexes could block, and a bulging arm swung toward her head.

Isabella woke up suddenly. She was in bed, alone, in Phineas's apartment. The room was dimly lit from the city lights coming in through the windows; the clock read 3:14am.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, feeling the adrenaline easing out of her. She'd had dreams like that a lot just after Sophie's death, but they'd become less frequent over the past year. She hadn't had one since the bomb took out the Dewdrop bunker, actually.

Phineas was off in Chicago, and it had been a lot harder to get to sleep than she'd expected. The lack of Phineas in bed with her had been unexpectedly distracting.

She found herself cursing the scientists who'd built her implants again. They'd added the ability to mute hunger, thirst, temperature extremes, and pain, but hadn't fixed her one request - the ability to flip a mental switch and go to sleep. The one ability she was likely to need in her new life, and it wasn't there.

She wished Phineas were here now, and hated herself for it. She shouldn't need someone like him, but having someone hold her sounded very nice right this minute. She hadn't had that since Sophie's death.

They'd ended up together almost by default, having been best friends since she'd ended up in the orphanage at age five. Sophie was like a sister to her, and they knew it couldn't last, but nobody else would understand them the same way. It had started as just physical, a celebration after she'd gotten back from her first mission.

Sophie had been put into Sierra team, with Tim, due to their marksmanship skills. Isabella had ended up in Echo because of her skill with computers and electronics, and Anthony, charming as always, had ended up in India. After training had washed out those who weren't up to the challenge, those remaining got the first trial implants. It had taken the scientists three years and two fatalities before they'd finally created implants that met all the criteria - improving the subject's physical abilities while being nigh-undetectable to most normal body scanners.

The first year of missions had been glorious, with no mistakes. They'd wreaked havoc on Dixie and Central command structures, and the Columbians had used the opportunity to press down into the Dixie lands. Dewdrop had broken the stalemate, and since the Columbians seemed to be the group that the Southwesterners could live with most, things were looking up for ending the war.

And then the Centrals had come out with some brilliant new technologies, and shattered the weakened Dixies and Columbians one after another. The Southwest had tried to take advantage of it by sending out Dewdrop against the remaining Central researchers and their military contacts.

Anthony had been the first one caught, and the first they'd had to trigger the Liquidator on. Morale among the team had plummeted, especially for Tyfani, who'd been the one to push the button. Sophie and Isabella had comforted each other and grew closer, talking about what they'd do after the war was over. It was always just talk, though; they knew the military would never let them go.

Isabella had been tapped for the Danville mission then, and came back to find that she'd been given bad intel and killed the scientists' father, an innocent bystander. She'd tried to tell them that it looked off, but they hadn't believed her.

And then Sophie had been sent on the follow-up mission, and when they'd caught her, Isabella had had to push the button. Sophie had died painfully, suffocating on the liquid remains of the implants in her lungs, and Isabella had had to sit through it all. She'd been a wreck, barely able to function, for a week, and then they sent her out on another mission. She was able to set her emotions aside and get the job done, but outside of missions, she was rudderless, just drifting along.

The Centrals had subjugated the Columbians and Dixies, and turned their attention to the Southwest. Even so, the war seemed fairly even, until Southwest high command had been killed by the first use of the tumbler bomb. A lucky hit had dimension-hopped into the Cheyenne Mountain base they were using for strategic planning, imploding it. The Southwest military had started to flail without its best leaders, and quickly started losing ground. They'd lost valuable time finding new leadership and telling them what Dewdrop could do. Dewdrop agents were sent to take out the Central high command as well, but the Cows were waiting, and the number of available agents plummeted. Tim got shot trying to take out the head of the Central Joint Chiefs. Tyfani had put her gun to her head rather than be captured; Isabella had been mission control for her, and was already preparing to press the button again. _At least she never felt the pain_ , Isabella told herself.

Isabella had been just returning from a mission of her own when the Dewdrop bunker had been hit by a tumbler bomb, killing everyone inside. There had only been three agents left at that point, including her; now, all that was left of Dewdrop was one young woman.

She rolled over again, then sat up with a sigh. Tomorrow was laundry day, which meant the laundry basket was full. She dug down into it a little, pulling out the shirt Phineas had worn the day before. It still smelled like him, and she put it on his pillow as she tried to go to sleep.

* * *

Phineas sipped his coffee and yawned. He had finally gotten to sleep, but the alarm had woken him just a few hours later.

"So, what can you boys tell me about Dewdrop now that you've had a chance to look at what we have?" General Archer asked as he entered the conference room.

"May I?" Phineas asked, stifling another yawn as he pulled out his laptop.

"Feel free," the general said, gesturing toward the large screen on the wall.

Phineas unlocked the laptop and connected it to the screen, which flickered to life. "Okay. So, the Dewdrop enhancements appear to come in five general categories: sensory, muscular, respiratory, nervous, and security. We can't be 100% sure what each of them did, because all we have to work from is the location in the body, for reasons we'll cover under 'security'. We'll go through each of the five separately."

The screen displayed a cross-section of a human head. Phineas pulled a laser pointer from his pocket and circled some areas that he'd marked earlier. "Sensory implants near the eardrum seem to indicate enhanced hearing. Oddly, there do not appear to be any implants near the eyes. We're not sure exactly why."

"Our current working hypothesis is that they would be too easily detectable, since to get any useful effect you'd have to largely replace the retina," Ferb said.

Archer grunted. "Were the ear implants used to keep in contact with their base, too?"

"No," Phineas said. "There doesn't appear to be any radio connection in the implants. There's a conductive rod in the left shoulder that may have been an antenna, but it's not connected to the sensory systems at all; we're not sure what it does. Our best guess is telemetry. They used a standard undercover video set up with an earpiece, a throat mike, and a camera hidden on the head or shoulder. Spread-spectrum radio communication - we have copies of some of the transmissions, but they're encrypted. Hopefully your data analysis folks can find the keys among the piles of data in the Southwest computers."

Archer nodded, and signaled for him to continue.

"Muscular enhancements," Phineas said as he brought up a stylized view of a human male's muscular system, "seem focused in the legs with a lesser focus in the arms. This would match our experience with, for example, India Two, who was the first agent we caught in the act, right here in the Tower." He switched over to a security-camera video of a young man running through a corridor at an incredible speed. Two soldiers tried to block him, only to be flattened by lightning-fast kicks. "Notice how the fighting style is very kick-heavy. We believe that's deliberate to maximize the advantage."

"There's more muscle to work with in the legs, so the enhancements can be proportionally more effective," Ferb added. "Based on the footage we have, we estimate approximately double human norms for the legs, and approximately one and one half times for the arms. Running speed is on the level of top-tier sprinters over short distances - approximately ten yards per second. We're unsure how long that can be sustained, or what the speeds would be over longer distances."

"It's suspected that the muscular enhancements can also be used to boost the rate of healing, but we've never had a wounded enhanced soldier to test this on. On to respiratory enhancements," Phineas said. An image of human lungs came up, with markers throughout. "The rest of the enhancements would require extra energy, so enhancements throughout the lungs would almost certainly indicate a way to super-oxygenate the blood to sustain performance. This also gives them enhanced ability to go without breathing, if they have time to prepare."

"Ironically, this is also how the self-destruct works," Ferb said.

"Right. We'll get to that under security," Phineas said, nodding his head and bringing up another image of a head. "So, nervous system. There are a lot of implants along the brainstem. We're not sure what all of them do, but the location indicates some connection to the nervous system. Certainly the enhanced soldiers had superhuman reflexes."

"Reaction speed is approximately double human norm, we believe," Ferb said.

"There may be other enhancements there," Phineas continued. "There seems to be a higher pain tolerance, but it's hard to tell if that's due to implants. There's also increased resistance to tasers and similar electrical shocks, although it's possible a hit would disrupt the implants." He flipped to a final image, covering the entire body again. "Security implants. There's some sort of security system involved, but we're not sure exactly which implants are involved. There's a few," he pointed out four locations on the body, "that we're not sure exactly what they do. Our current suspicion is that they are triggered by one of the brainstem implants and send a signal to...well, basically, melt the implants. They're triggered automatically on death, and can also be triggered voluntarily by the soldier, which is invariably fatal."

"Interesting," Archer said, leaning forward. "Fatal how?"

"The lung implants," Phineas said. "There are enough of them that when they melt, between the loss of oxygen from lung tissue replaced by implants and the liquid residue of the implants themselves, the soldier suffocates."

"That seems less than ideal," Archer said. "Theoretically, could we keep them alive with an oxygen tube?"

"Unlikely," Ferb said. "The autopsies are conclusive that their lungs are effectively destroyed."

"So, to capture one," Phineas said, "we need to knock him out quickly, before he can activate the self-destruct."

"And then keep him tranquilized until we can disable it," Ferb said.

"So - was that what you needed to know, General?" Phineas asked.

"Yes. Yes it was," General Archer said, sitting back in his chair. "So now let's talk about your next job."

"We're all ears, General," Phineas said.

"We want Dewdrop-enhanced soldiers for the next war."

"What next war?" Phineas asked. "The war's over."

"I give it six months before another starts," Ferb said quietly. "I'm not certain against whom yet, but my guess would be Mexico."

"More like a couple years, but only because you haven't heard the announcement yet," the general said. Ferb cocked an eyebrow, and the general continued, "They're going to announce today that there will be no amnesty for surrendered Southwestern troops. They're all going on the block."

"Wait, what?" Phineas said.

"It's the slaves," Ferb explained. "Too much of the economy has shifted over to use them. They need a fresh supply. Once they've run out of rebel soldiers, they'll have two choices." He held up one finger. "Add slavery as a punishment for domestic crimes. That's a harder sell with the public. Or two," he held up a second finger, "start another war."

"Fletcher's right, it's probably Mexico," the general said. "Canada has a mutual-defense treaty with the European Union, and we can use Los Angeles as a pretext. Reclaiming it for America, that sort of thing."

"Canada is also a dead end," Ferb said. "We can continue down past Mexico through Central America."

Phineas sat back. "That's...horrifying."

"Welcome to the real world, kid," the general said. "So your goal is to figure out how we can replicate Project Dewdrop."

Ferb frowned. "Are we just going to leave Echo Three out there, then?"

"Not at all. The easiest way to replicate it would be to analyze what may be the last man left with the technology. You two get to take two different tacks on it. Fletcher, I want you to work on how to disable the self-destruct mechanism."

"And me?" Phineas asked.

"I want you to dig through the personnel records we've captured and see if you can pin down who Echo Three is. If we can find him while he's still in custody, great, but if he's been sold off, then we can expropriate him back from the owner."

"And if he was never captured?" Ferb asked.

"Well, then we'd have to fix that," the general said. "Now, while you're here, I need you to meet up with a few Senators to help make sure we get this project funded..."

Phineas rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Staying late?" Carla asked, picking up her purse just as the clock ticked to 5pm.

Isabella nodded. "A bit. Nothing much else to do while the boys are in Chicago, I figured I might as well get this finished before I meet the girls for pizza night."

"Okay, then. Call me if you need anything." Carla bustled over to the elevator and headed out.

Isabella waited five minutes before pulling out her list and walking into the lab. The first item on the list was a compact multimeter, for finding the right power flows in her collar. One was lying on a desk nearby; she put it in her bag. She looked over the list, then surveyed the lab with a grin. She had never expected getting the right equipment to be this easy. There was even a 2D/3D printer she could use to print a high-quality fake ID, so she printed up a half-dozen for herself.

She eyed the locked office where the boys worked on their latest project. _Should I...?_ She could break in easily enough, the question was whether she could do so without triggering an alarm. She took a quick look at the palm lock. She could hot-wire it, she was sure, but probably not without it being obvious after the fact. _Save that for the day I leave for good, then._

A small blue box with power inputs looked interesting; its label read 'QUANTUM CORE'. She grabbed it, adding it to her bag. Maybe it would be a useful bargaining tool when she got to Canada. She took a quick glance around before heading down in the elevator.

The short drive home gave her time to plan. She hadn't gotten into any of the nearby networks when she'd left for work this morning, but maybe there was enough data now that one was available. If she had that, then she could figure out an escape route.

 _I'd need a different car. Both because this one is far too recognizable, and because it handles like a brick. And that's assuming they don't have a tracer in it._

She had access to some funds that Phineas had set aside for her to use, but there wasn't enough there to buy a car. She'd probably need to steal one, but that would mostly use the same tools that she'd just obtained for use on her collar. That was okay, it would leave less of a paper trail. If she timed it right, she could make it to the border before the car's owner noticed it was gone. It was about an eight-hour drive to the closest border, but there were at least three or four internal checkpoints to get past. She'd need to find alternate routes around those. She planned on twelve hours all told in the best case.

She snapped out of her planning as she arrived back at the apartment building. The garage gate opened for the car, and she parked neatly in Phineas's parking space. The elevator whisked her and her supplies up to the top floor.

 _First things first._ She pulled out the bottom drawer of the dresser and hid her new tools underneath. With a smile, she saw that the drawer fit in just fine, completely hiding everything.

Her laptop sat on the kitchen counter, where she'd left it after breakfast. A quick set of keystrokes brought up the hidden virtual machine, which reported success. The network downstairs used '12345' as its password, and she shook her head at how easy people made it sometimes. She told the virtual machine to use a fake hardware address and connect to the downstairs network, which came up cleanly. _If Phineas were staying past tomorrow, I could head out just as soon as I plan my route._

She could get ready to head out tonight anyway, actually. If she left him a note, Phineas probably wouldn't report that she was gone, even if he realized she was escaping. It seemed likely that his dislike of slavery was strong enough that he'd never hold escaping against her.

Unless he'd feel betrayed enough to call it in anyway, or was worried that she'd get caught and he'd get in trouble. Or if Holly and the girls missed her and called Phineas to find out where she was.

She sighed. Better not to involve him. There wasn't a rush. She could go next time he went out of town. She disconnected the virtual machine and brought up her newsfeeds. Nothing particularly interesting jumped out at her, so she checked the time; about half an hour before she needed to leave to meet up with Holly.

At the top of the newsfeed was a headline she probably should have expected, and which really shouldn't have pleased her as much as it did. The government had announced that, unlike when Dixie and Columbia had been defeated, there would be no amnesty for Southwest troops. Since the interim government had surrendered, most of the troops were being held as POWs. They'd all be tried and sold off like she'd been. _I guess holding out two more days wouldn't have mattered that much after all_ , she thought. A few protests in major Southwest cities were being quelled by the occupation troops.

Her laptop bleeped, indicating an incoming videochat. A quick glance over showed that it was Phineas. She smiled and accepted the call.

"Hey...oh, sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?" Phineas asked.

"Nah, just getting ready for tonight. What's up?" Isabella said, twisting a hair tie into place to hold her ponytail.

"I had a couple minutes before I have to go schmooze up dinner with the muckety-mucks. Just wanted to make sure everything was going okay for you."

Yeah, no problems," Isabella said. "Just fine. You sleeping okay?"

Phineas rubbed the back of his neck. "Not entirely. You?"

She shook her head. "Nightmare last night. Not a good one, either."

"Sorry. I wish I could have been there for you."

She gave him a fond smile. "Me too."

* * *

"Ah, Senator Martin, let me introduce you to one of our best and brightest," General Archer said, leading Phineas toward a short, stocky woman with long black hair over dark skin. "This is Phineas Flynn, one of the inventors of the tumbler bomb. Flynn, this is Senator Andrea Martin, from Michigan."

Phineas had kept his best fake smile on all night, and he'd be damned if he'd let it slip now. Archer had already told him that Martin, newly promoted to the committee in charge of military budgeting, was someone to impress. "Pleased to meet you, Senator. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Likewise, Mr. Flynn," the senator said with an appreciative smile. "Are you in Chicago long?"

"Just for the night," Phineas said. "Meetings bright and early tomorrow, and then back to Danville after lunch."

"Oh, bright and early, my sympathies." She patted Phineas on the arm and gave a benevolent nod to the general. "You should probably get him to bed soon, then. And then let me know next time you bring him up, and try to schedule him for a later start to the next day." She took a glass from one of the waiters passing by, raised it to Phineas, and wandered off.

"General..." Phineas said, gritting his teeth to keep the smile in place.

"I'll promise you a 7am meeting every day you're here if needed, Flynn," the general said.

"Try introducing her to Ferb. He might appreciate her."

The general laughed. "Nice idea, but she likes redheads."

"I'll buy him a wig."

* * *

"Kneel, slave," Phineas said, gesturing with the riding crop.

Isabella sank to her knees, unable to stay on her feet. He'd done something to her collar. It was controlling her implants based on his commands. Her body was no longer her own.

He reached down, caressing her cheek with the tip of the crop, the leather smell strong so close to her nose. "Strip and present yourself," he said.

Her arms moved of their own accord, pulling the brief slave tunic up and over her head. "Why?" she managed to ask. "Why are you doing this?" She put her hands behind her head, thrusting her breasts forward as she knelt, her legs spreading apart.

"You know why," Phineas said darkly. The crop slipped down, along her neck and then over her shoulder, down her breast that stood out boldly. Her nipples were tight and hard, and she was unsure if it was temperature or arousal.

His wrist twitched, and the tip of the crop struck her nipple, making her cry out. It hurt, but she wanted him to hurt her more than that. She deserved it, she knew, even if she wasn't quite sure of the reason.

"I don't, Master, Why?"

He wandered behind her, the crop trailing along her side.

"You killed my father," he said, and the crop slashed down across her ass, a line of fire. "Now you need to suffer for it." Another sharp blow, and she cried out.

She sat up in the empty bed, the blanket falling away from her. She shivered a bit at the sudden chill, and pulled the blanket back up as she lay down again.

 _Another nightmare? Too much pizza tonight?_

 _That one wasn't so much a nightmare, though. That one..._

Her panties were a little wet. To some extent, she was glad Phineas wasn't here, because she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep from jumping him. The idea of losing control like that was terrifying, but Phineas being that dominant was _hot_.

She took his shirt off the pillow next to her and cuddled up with it, trying to go back to sleep.

* * *

Phineas paused in front of the apartment door. A hailstorm had gone through, grounding his plane just as they were getting ready for takeoff, so he and Ferb had spent several hours waiting for clearance before they could head back to Danville. He'd let Isabella know he was running very late, and that he'd have one of the base drivers give him a ride back to the apartment.

He punched in the code and swung the door open, rolling his suitcase in behind him. "I'm home," he called out. Isabella waved from where she sat on the couch, wearing a loose shirt and shorts, her legs curled under her as she poked at her laptop.

"I would have come to get you," she said.

"I know, but no reason to make you go out that far. Did you eat dinner?"

"I ordered Chinese. There's some left in the fridge." She paused. "Everything went okay?"

"Yeah, got a new job from the general and got to suck up to a bunch of politicians. Whee."

She laughed. "Get some dinner. I've been saving the new episode of Space Voyagers for you."

He took a deep breath. "Sounds great. Let me get my laundry started and..."

She stood up and walked over to him, taking the suitcase handle from him. "I'll start the laundry. You get some food, you look about ready to fall over."

"Thanks," he said. He heard her rolling the suitcase toward the bathroom as he opened the refrigerator.

* * *

Isabella climbed into bed, feeling oddly happy that Phineas was back. She wasn't quite sure why. She'd had more freedom the two days he was gone than she'd had since the orphanage, but somehow it hadn't felt right without him.

"Missed you," he whispered as his arm slipped around her shoulders. She rested her head on his chest.

"Missed you too."

She wondered if she should try to seduce him again. Maybe he'd come to a realization that he was ready? After a moment's thought, she decided against it. Much as she might enjoy it right now, letting him figure out what he wanted was probably the best solution in the long term.

Not that there was necessarily going to _be_ a long term, now that she had the tools she needed. But there were any number of things that might go wrong, so taking a long view was still a better idea.

And she _did_ sleep better with him next to her. If he decided to make her sleep on the couch because she was pushing too hard, she might be too tired to escape.


	9. Mating Rituals

"Phineas, my boy!" the mayor called, and Phineas tried not to wince.

He'd been dragged to yet another meet-and-greet party, this one for the Danville Chamber of Commerce. Fortunately, he didn't have to bring Isabella to this one, so she was home watching TV. He wished he could be there with her instead of here.

Ferb was off talking to some executive from some other company, talking synergy and vision and similar business buzzwords. Ferb could spew those easily, but they always caught in Phineas's throat.

"Mayor, how nice to see you again," Phineas said, with his best fake smile. He saw that Missy was still following the mayor around. This time, she was unrestrained and wearing a short, clingy dress - blessedly, it wasn't the same sort of party as last time.

"So, Phineas, you promised me that I'd be the first to borrow that lovely little sweaty of yours. Where is she? You didn't go back on your promise, did you?"

"She wasn't feeling well, Mayor, so she stayed home," Phineas said. "I haven't broken my promise, I'm just not ready to loan her out yet."

The mayor's eyes narrowed. "You aren't developing feelings for her, are you? Worst thing you can do. Remember, Phineas," he poked Phineas in the chest, "she's just a slave. Maybe you should sell her off before you get too far in."

"No, that's okay," Phineas said hastily.

"If you change your mind, I want first chance to buy," the mayor said gruffly.

"Certainly," Phineas said.

Raising his drink with a nod, the mayor led Missy off to his next target.

* * *

"Any luck, Ferb?" Phineas asked, leaning in the door to the secure office.

Ferb nodded, gesturing him over. Phineas closed the door behind him before he walked behind Ferb's desk to see his screen.

Ferb showed him a 3D model of a human body, with several points highlighted with indication of how they tied into the circulatory system. "Oh, wow. You've got the self-destruct all modeled out?" Phineas asked.

Ferb shrugged.

"Okay, close enough." Phineas looked closer. "Where does it tie into the nervous system? I assume they need some way to trigger it."

Ferb shook his head.

"It's not? Really? Weird. So what sets it off?"

Ferb shrugged. "No idea. Did you get anywhere?"

"Nah, no luck. I cross-referenced everyone they got from orphanages or similarly without close family. I couldn't even find anything to indicate which ones were the Dewdrop agents we caught. We didn't get biometrics, so we can't go that way."

He paused, then added, "I did find Isabella's record, though. It was in with the orphanage ones. She was telling the truth, she just did boring Ops stuff for years."

Ferb looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "How are the two of you doing?"

Phineas sat on the corner of Ferb's desk, hard. "I don't know. I mean, it's been about a month and a half now, and..."

"And you're starting to become attracted to her, but don't want to force her into a relationship she may or may not want."

Phineas blushed, looking away from Ferb. "Something like that."

Ferb rolled his eyes and waved Phineas out of the office.

* * *

Phineas stared at the ceiling, trying to go to sleep.

Isabella was pressed up against him, holding on to him like he was a giant teddy bear. Her soft leg wrapped around his, and her arm rested on his bare chest as she lay with her head on his shoulder. Her slow, even breathing indicated that she was probably already asleep. He envied her.

She was so warm and soft against him, and he tried to will his erection back down. _This was a mistake. I should have pushed her to take the couch. It's just too tempting having her in the same bed._

 _Maybe I should have taken the couch and left her with the bed._

Isabella twitched, and rolled over, off of him. He felt a sudden chill, and pulled the blankets up to compensate. With that, he rolled behind her, wrapping an arm around her middle as he spooned behind her, carefully angling his hips down so he wasn't pressing his erection up against her.

 _Four years, ten months, 13 days..._

* * *

"How's the Mayor doing? I heard about the attack." Isabella asked as they waited for their lunch to arrive. It had been all over the news; anti-slavery activists had attacked Mayer Abercrombie. They'd broken Mitsuko's collar and left the Mayor chained to a rail, spiriting the slave off toward freedom.

Holly rolled her eyes. "He's recovering. We just got word as well, apparently the Underground Railroad got Mitsuko to Mexico."

"Oh, good. I'm happy for her."

"Me too." Holly sat back. "So what's up with you and Phineas?"

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Consent. Still."

"Yeah, I can totally see him saying that he won't sleep with you, whether you want to or not, because he can't be _certain_ about your consent."

"That's exactly it. I can't legally say no, so it doesn't matter how much I say yes. And for some reason, the fact that he'd actually _listen_ if I said no doesn't change that."

Holly shook her head. "Did he tell you how long it took me to get him in bed? Eighteen months. We'd been dating a year and a half before I could get him to go beyond just kissing."

"He claimed to be demisexual when I talked to him about it."

"That would make sense. He never showed interest in any other girl while he was dating me. And I will say, once I convinced him to go for it, he was a _very_ quick learner."

Isabella laughed. "I'm sure." She took a sip of her tea. "It's just frustrating. I'm spending every night in bed with a really sweet guy, and..."

"And he's leaving you high and dry."

"Not exactly _dry_ , actually..."

* * *

"Ah, crap," Phineas said as he hung up the phone. He walked next door to Ferb's office; the door was open. "Hey, Ferb, Archer says he has more stuff for us, wants us to fly up to Chicago. Too important to send electronically, and he can't take the time to bring it down here in person."

"So why does he need both of us?" Ferb asked.

"Says he has updated info for both of us. Wants us up there bright and early tomorrow morning, but apparently we can come back tomorrow night."

Ferb sighed and nodded.

Phineas quickly walked to the lobby, where Isabella and Carla were managing all the tasks involved with day-to-day handling of the company. Carla had privately said that, while Isabella was apparently new to this sort of administrative work, she was a very fast learner and didn't make the same mistakes twice.

"Hey, Phineas, what'cha doin'?" Isabella asked with a smile as he came through the door.

"You're out with the gals for pizza night tonight, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Archer wants me and Ferb up in Chicago tomorrow morning, so we're figuring we might as well fly up tonight."

"That's fine. Maybe I'll crash over at Holly's for the night, then. Want me to give you and Ferb a ride to the air base?"

"No, if Archer's going to pull this kind of stunt, he can damn well send a car."

Carla, who had been studiously ignoring the conversation, frowned at him for the curse.

"Sorry, Carla. But you know what I mean."

* * *

"So I shook my leg at him and told him that if he tried that again, I'd beat him with it," Adyson said, and the rest of the group laughed. Even Ginger joined in. She'd gotten used to Isabella being there, and was able to come visit without Buford hovering over her. She still didn't say much, though.

Isabella sat back with her glass of wine. It had been far too long since she'd had friends like this. She'd had Sophie, but Sophie had been her lover for almost two years before the end, and that wasn't the same.

She'd considered cracking the collar and making a run for it tonight, but Phineas would only be gone for one day, and if she missed pizza night, Holly would look for her. Instead, she'd made plans to spend the night at Holly's, which meant she could drink a little bit more wine than she would if she were driving home. Without making it obvious she was enhanced, at least; the scientists had (thankfully) made the blood-toxin implant switchable as to whether it affected alcohol. She could, if needed, become sober almost instantly, although that tended to give her an almost-instant hangover.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out; the screen said it was Phineas calling. "Excuse me for a second," she said, stepping out into the hall.

"Hey," she said into the phone. Her heart was hammering for no readily apparent reason. "Doing okay?"

"Yeah," Phineas said wistfully. "I just...I missed you, and needed to hear your voice."

"Lonely in the hotel room?" she asked.

"Yeah. Bed's too big."

"I understand." A small smile on her face, she whispered, "I miss you too."

* * *

Phineas sat at the desk, idly poking at his laptop. He glanced at his phone, sitting on the desk, but decided not to call Isabella again.

He had missed her the last time he'd gone on a trip, but that was a month ago. Now...

He looked over at the bed. A king-size, it was huge, and empty.

There was a knock at the door, startling him. He walked over and looked through the peephole; it was Ferb, so he opened the door.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"About?" Phineas asked, letting Ferb inside.

"You. Isabella."

Phineas fell back on the bed, spreading his arms wide. "Is it that obvious?"

"Is what that obvious?" Ferb asked as he took the seat at the desk.

Phineas leaned up on his elbows. "That I've fallen for her." He fell back again. "I miss her."

Ferb laughed. "It is blatantly obvious to anyone who watches the two of you that you are madly in love with each other, and that you, in particular, have no idea what to do about it."

Phineas sat bolt upright. "What?"

"She's been flirting with you ever since you got her to Danville. You've said yourself you go to sleep holding her, and wake up touching each other."

"Well, yeah, but..." Phineas took a deep breath. "I can't do anything about it, Ferb. Not until she's free. I don't want to force her into..."

"Phineas. You aren't forcing her into anything."

"She doesn't have the right to say no!"

"If she told you no, would you listen?"

"Of course I would, you know me."

"So does she, by now. She knows that if she tells you no, you'd back off."

"But she might just be saying yes because she thinks it's what I want to hear."

"That's something that can happen in any relationship. Are you going to treat her like a person who can make her own decisions, or are you going to treat her like a slave that you control? You're trying to have it both ways. Either she can say yes or no, and you'll respect her decision, or she can't."

"I...shit." Phineas stared at the floor for a long moment.

"May I make a suggestion?"

"Always, Ferb, you know that."

"Talk to her."

"You make it sound so easy. 'Hi, I know I own you, and can make your life miserable on a whim. I'd really like to tear your clothes off and fuck you silly, but first, I just need you to confirm that you actually want to do this.' Of course she's going to say yes."

Ferb rolled his eyes. "Fine. Give yourself five years of blue balls for all I care." He stomped out, slamming the door behind him.

Phineas lay back on the bed. He closed his eyes, remembering what Isabella looked like naked, that first night they'd spent together. He'd seen at the time that she was beautiful. Now that he'd gotten to know her, that beauty had turned her into the sexiest woman in the world, as far as he was concerned.

And he still wasn't going to force her to do anything.

 _Maybe I can talk to the general about getting her pardoned or something, so I can free her early?_

* * *

Isabella lay on the floor next to Holly's bed. "What..." She paused, rethinking her question. "How did you get Phineas into bed finally?"

Holly laughed, leaning up on one elbow as she lay on the bed. "That bad, huh?"

"I haven't had a dry spell this long since my first boyfriend."

"I made it extremely clear to him that I wanted him. You've probably noticed that subtlety isn't really his strong point."

"That's putting it mildly."

"It is, yes. So I picked up some truly scandalous lingerie, something filmy and translucent and crotchless. The next time I knew I'd have him alone in my room long enough, I put it on under a dress I could take off quickly. Once we got up there and my family left the house, off came the dress, and his eyes bugged out."

"And he still protested, I'm sure."

"Of course he did. He didn't want me to feel I _had_ to do this to keep him, etc. So I told him it was really what I wanted, and amazingly enough, it got through."

"Think it might work for me?"

Holly pondered. "I honestly don't know. Maybe? You're the best judge; do you think he's interested in you like that? He's really slow in getting attracted to people, so until you hit that point, you're out of luck."

"He keeps trying to hide the fact that he has a hard-on when we're trying to go to sleep."

"Okay, he's interested. So...probably. The main thing you're going to have to do is make sure he realizes it's your choice because you _want_ to, not because you think you _have_ to."

"What do you mean?" Isabella asked, puzzled.

"Don't say things like 'I'm all yours' or 'You can do whatever you want to me'. He'll take that as meaning that you consider yourself his property. Try things like, 'I want this,' or maybe 'I choose this'."

"Maybe 'I need you'?"

"Oh, that's a good one. That might have been what I used, actually."

Isabella thought for a moment. "I think lingerie might be a bit much, to be honest. I don't want to push _too_ hard. He might flip out."

"Hm. What can we put you in that's casually sexy but not blatant?" Holly lay back to ponder.

* * *

Phineas opened the door to the apartment, rolling his suitcase in behind him. "I'm home," he called out as he toed off his shoes, wondering where Isabella was. It was late, he knew, but he didn't figure she'd be in bed quite yet.

"Hey," she said, coming in from the hallway and leaning up against the wall. His breath caught in his throat as the suitcase handle slipped from his hand.

She was wearing one of his shirts, probably the shirt he'd worn to work the day before yesterday. The way she jiggled underneath it made it obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

"I..." He swallowed, hard. "Why?" he asked as she stalked toward him. He felt somewhat uncomfortable, like a mouse eying an approaching cat.

"I missed you a lot," she said quietly as she pressed herself against him, her arms going around his waist. His hands rested on her back, slowly stroking up and down.

"I missed you too," he whispered. His hands slid down to her ass, and he realized that she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath his shirt.

Her body was warm against his, and she looked up at him expectantly. He could feel his resolve melting quickly.

"I want this, Phineas," she whispered. "I want you."

Her deep blue eyes smoldered as she stared into his soul, and Ferb's words ran through his head: 'Either she can say yes or no, and you'll respect her decision, or she can't.' She was saying yes, and...

He leaned down slightly, pulling her closer as his lips found hers in a kiss. Her soft lips responded eagerly, her tongue meeting his. She pulled him toward the bedroom, and he followed, not letting go of her. They hit the wall by the hallway, and he sandwiched her against it, kissing her all over her face and neck, down to the cursed collar. "Oh, Isabella. You're sure about this?"

She responded by unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it back before her hands slid down to his belt. His hand pulled up the bottom of the shirt she wore, caressing her ass and pulling her leg up. She hooked it around his thigh, pulling him closer as he pinned her against the wall.

"Let's..." she gasped. "Let's go to bed." He let go enough that she could pull him toward the bedroom, shedding his shirt and pants on the way. Her fingers undid the buttons on her shirt, and it fell open as she landed on the bed.

"You are so beautiful," he said, pausing to look at her, her perfect little breasts, the glorious curve of her hips, the tantalizing little thatch of hair between her legs, pointing downward to...

As if feeling where his eyes were looking, her legs parted, exposing more of her to him. He dropped his boxers, exposing his erection, which twitched. Isabella's eyes sparkled as she saw it. "I know just where that needs to go," she whispered.

"You do, eh?" he murmured, lying down on his side next to her. His hand stroked her stomach, sliding up to circle a nipple before gliding back down through her pubic hair. Her hips thrust upward in invitation.

Her hand caught in his hair as his fingers danced in the wetness between her legs, leaving her gasping into his shoulder. He levered himself up, kneeling between her legs, hard and ready. "Are you sure?" he asked once more.

"Yes," she gasped. "Please!"

Any resistance he may have had left was gone, shattered, torn asunder, and they moaned as one as he entered her.

* * *

Isabella felt like purring in contentment.

She was curled up next to Phineas, one leg draped over his, bare skin against bare skin, blissful. Holly had been so, _so_ right - he _was_ a fast learner, picking up her desires almost subconsciously. They'd made love twice: once, fast and hard, desperate, both of them succumbing to their mutual desire. Then, after a brief break to cuddle and recuperate, they'd gone a second time, slower, learning each other, more about exploration than quick satisfaction. She'd come once the first time, and then twice the second, gasping out an orgasm as his tongue brought her to a peak, and then again as she rode him, his thumb jogging her clitoris as she bucked on top of him.

After the second round, they had collapsed together in bed, just enjoying contact with each other. Her hand idly stroked the thin band of sparse red hair down the center of his chest, while his arm curved protectively around her back, his hand on her hip.

"I need you to know," he whispered, "if you want us to stop this, just tell me. I love you, and I don't ever want to force you into anything."

She hugged him tighter. "I know. I love you too." She leaned up on one elbow, grinning down at him. "Do you know how I know you'll stop any time I ask?"

He shook his head, puzzled.

She poked his chest with one finger. "You have never - not even once - given me an order."

He looked surprised, and looked upwards, as if trying to remember. "I haven't? I mean, I can't think of a time when I would, but..."

"Not once. You've made requests, you've made offers, you've made suggestions. But it's always been a discussion between equals, not a master and his slave."

"Oh." His hand stroked her back, and she nestled her head down onto his shoulder again. "I've always wanted it to be between equals," he said quietly. "I talked to General Archer about whether we could get you pardoned. He doesn't think it's possible now, but maybe in a few months. If that were to happen...would you stay?"

She hummed happily. "I will stay with you as long as you'll have me." She meant it, she realized. She'd had the opportunity to run, but realized that she hadn't wanted to leave him, even at the beginning. Now that they knew how the other felt, she felt a need to stay with him forever.

 _That first night, I wanted to sleep with him to make him want to be nice to me. And here I've gone and fallen for him._

* * *

Ferb leaned against the wall as the elevator whisked him up from the parking garage. He'd had a pleasant weekend with a young trans woman named Kristina, and felt a bit guilty about bringing the relationship to an end. It had been one of the nicest of his mini-relationships.

The elevator doors opened, and he badged into the office area. Phineas's door was open, and he glanced in through the office window, and then stopped.

Isabella was leaning on Phineas's desk, and he was laughing at something she said. He reached up and tenderly brushed a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. She smirked at him, then leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. Phineas's hand slid down to her shoulder as the kiss continued.

Ferb smiled as he continued to his office. _It's about time those two worked it out._

A moment later, Isabella strolled past his office, a broad smile on her face. She waved at Ferb as she passed, and he nodded back at her.

* * *

Katie came back in with a bottle of wine and five glasses after putting Little Dave down for the night.

Adyson took a glass and smiled at Isabella. "So," Adyson began, "did it work?"

Isabella gave her most innocent look. "Did what work?"

Katie sat down and rolled her eyes. "Don't give us that. You and Holly were trying to figure out how to get Phineas to jump you last week. Did it work?"

"Maybe," Isabella said with a shy smile.

"That sounds like a yes," Ginger said quietly.

Isabella laughed, "Okay. Yes."

* * *

Ferb swirled the wine around in his glass, then looked up at Phineas. "So, you and Isabella are involved now?"

Phineas blushed, nodding. He'd come over to Ferb's for their regular Thursday night dinner, then they'd sat back with some wine to talk. "Yeah. What you said last week...finally sunk in."

"Good."

Phineas sat back, looking at his brother. "You seemed to be pushing me to treat her more like a slave. Why'd you change your mind?"

Ferb grinned. "Because I knew that would push you to realize what you truly felt about her. I figured out the day I met her that you were going to fall for her. It was just a matter of time."

Phineas mulled this over for a moment. "Thanks," he said.

Ferb nodded.

* * *

Isabella slid out of bed without waking Phineas, tracking down a sports bra and a pair of panties for her workout. She may be getting mentally soft, falling for strange men like Phineas, but she needed to stay physically ready for whatever may come.

Besides, seeing her sweaty in her underwear seemed to be a turn-on for him. They'd been lovers just over a week now. She fondly remembered the first morning after she'd finally seduced him, and he'd come out to watch the end of her workout before joining her in the shower. Another round of wet love-making had followed. It hadn't been the last time she'd followed up her workout with letting Phineas seduce her, either.

She started with stretches before moving on to body-weight exercises - push-ups, squats, planks, and more. Phineas came out of the bedroom as she was doing a round of push-ups, his erection tenting the front of his boxers. He took a moment to look at her, smiling, then waved as he went into the bathroom. The shower turned on as she started a round of squats, turning off again as she started her katas. He came out, wearing a towel around his waist, and took a seat on the couch. She did her katas in his direction, blocking, punching, and kicking high, and he smiled.

"You're welcome to join me if you want," she said as she finished, wiping her face with a towel.

"Nah, not my speed. It's more fun to watch you."

She grinned as she stalked over to him, leaning over where he sat. She held herself up with a hand on the back of the couch next to his head and slowly lowered her lips to his. His hand touched her stomach before stroking around to her back, then down to her ass, gently caressing her through the high-cut panties.

"Love you," she whispered.

"Love you too," he said, "but we can't lallygag this morning. I can't, at least. Need to head to the cemetery in..." He glanced at a clock. "About half an hour. So if you'd like to come, you probably need to jump in the shower."

"Okay," she said. "What's up?"

"Second anniversary of Dad's death. Ferb and I made plans to meet at the cemetery, then go visit Mom for a while."

She paused guiltily. _Oh. Well, I guess I know where I was two years ago, then._ "Yes, I'd like to come along. It sounds like I would have liked him."

"Yeah, I think he would have liked you, too."

 _If I hadn't killed him_ , she thought as she headed into the bathroom.

The hot water washed over her, and she thought about what might have been. If Intelligence hadn't screwed up, she wouldn't have set the bomb in his car. She would have...she paused, leaning against the cool tile wall.

 _I would have killed Phineas and Ferb. And maybe changed the entire war. They hadn't invented the tumbler bomb yet, we'd taken out most of their top scientists, we were looking into expanding Dewdrop, the Joint Chiefs were still in charge of the military, and we were winning._

She shook her head. No time to waste on might-have-beens.

She finished her shower, then dressed for the day. A solemn dark-colored dress seemed appropriate; not quite mourning, but respectful. They drove to the cemetery silently.

Ferb had just pulled up as they arrived, and he nodded at Isabella approvingly. The three of them walked into the cemetery, Isabella following their leads. They came to a stop in front of a medium-sized stone, and Isabella winced inwardly at it.

 **LAWRENCE FLETCHER**

 **BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER**

 **TAKEN FROM US TOO EARLY**

 **17 AUGUST 1976 - 12 NOVEMBER 2021**

Ferb stared at it, stony-faced, and Isabella could see Phineas's eyes starting to water.

"We'll get the man who did this to you, Father," Ferb muttered, and Isabella barely kept herself from jumping.

"We're getting there, Ferb. He can't hide from us forever," Phineas said, patting his brother on the shoulder.

"You know who did it?" Isabella asked in what she hoped was a curious tone.

"It was..." Phineas looked at Ferb, who shrugged. "I shouldn't say this, but..." Phineas took a deep breath, steadying himself. "He was a special agent for the Southwest forces. We don't know much about him. His codename was Echo Three, and he worked for something called Project Dewdrop."

Ferb grinned viciously. "We know he was involved with the one who suicided when we caught her, called Sierra Six. And presumably, he has similar enhancements. Archer has us looking into who he is, and how we can keep him captive when we find him."

"That's top secret stuff," Phineas said. "Please don't repeat it anywhere."

Isabella nodded knowingly, while inside, she was screaming. _Of course Archer would put these two on the case. That's what's in that locked room. I should have checked it when Phineas was out of town. I'd have called Holly and said I was sick, then been in Canada the next day._

 _Instead, I had to stay here and fall in love with the guy trying to find me._

 _I am such a fucking idiot._


	10. Unevenly Distributed

**Posted a day early this week because I'm traveling tomorrow. Back to Sunday next week.**

* * *

Isabella looked at her nightshirt as she got ready for bed that night. _Wear it? Don't bother?_ She hadn't bothered with it after their second night together; it had come off quickly, and they'd gone to sleep together naked.

She wondered what Phineas would think, and whether he'd expect her to be in the mood tonight. For that matter, she wondered whether he would be. They'd spent a somber day, visiting his mother and comforting her. Candace had called from England. They'd tried doing things to cheer up Linda, but she wasn't having any of it.

Isabella had tried to keep back, out of the conversation, but Linda had fixated on her for some reason as a source of support. She'd ended up talking to Linda for a couple hours, describing her childhood in Albuquerque. Isabella had tried to expose her discomfort as sadness over growing up in the orphanage, rather than what it truly was - guilt over causing Linda this distress, and concern that a slip would make Phineas and Ferb realize that she'd been drafted as a research subject, not an operations soldier.

Eventually, Linda had decided to go lie down, and Phineas had taken Isabella out to dinner. They'd gone somewhere casual, and she wasn't really sure either of them had tasted the food.

After a quiet night at home, she wasn't sure what he'd want. She wasn't sure what she wanted, for that matter. Part of her could use a distraction that would keep her mind off her previous life, even if just for an hour or so. Part of her just wanted some reassurance right now, some comforting arms around her.

And a significant part of her wanted to slip out of Phineas's bed tonight, take his car, and be halfway to Canada by the time he woke up. There wouldn't be anybody there to hold her at night, but she suspected that if Phineas found out who she really was, there wouldn't be anybody here for that either.

She picked up the nightshirt, feeling the thin cotton between her fingers. With a sigh, she pulled it over her head. He wouldn't mind her wearing it, even if he was feeling horny tonight. With a deep breath, she exited the bathroom and joined Phineas in the bedroom.

He was sitting up in bed, propped up on pillows, reading something on his tablet. He looked up at her and smiled, and her heart melted just a bit as she smiled back. He patted the bed next to him in invitation.

"You okay?" he asked as she sat next to him. "Sorry about Mom, she just...she just wants some form of 'normal' to come back."

She nestled into his shoulder, and he put his arm around her, warm and reassuring. She could see that his tablet had a novel he was reading on it, and nothing more dangerous. "I'm okay," she said. "Just...just thinking about what I didn't have."

He nodded. "Your father was gone even before the Santa Fe trip, as I understand it. And your mother...was there anyone at the orphanage?"

"Some of the nuns were a bit maternal, but really, not much," she said. "They're all gone, too, now."

"They are?" he asked, surprised. "What happened?"

"A bomb hit the orphanage by mistake...probably two years after I left. Everyone in the building was killed. The only folks I knew who survived were the ones who'd been drafted by then." _I wish I could be sure it wasn't arranged in order to help cover up Dewdrop. One little leak that it was really a military target, and..._

 _No way to know for sure now._

"Oh, no," Phineas said, setting the tablet aside and putting his hand to his mouth. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's past now." She snuggled into his shoulder. "I prefer to worry about the future." Her hand stroked his chest.

He caressed her shoulder gently. "Do...do we have a future?" he asked. "I mean, I'd like, but..." He reached over and flicked her collar with a finger.

"I don't intend to go anywhere," she said, lying just a bit. If they hadn't found her yet, maybe they weren't going to. "Maybe...no."

"What?" he asked.

"I was going to suggest we escape to Canada, but Archer would never let you get away."

"No. Ferb and I aren't allowed to leave the country. Critical national security assets." He leaned over and kissed her, gently, on the lips. "But, to be honest, the idea of getting away with you so we didn't have to wait five years for your freedom sounds _really_ nice."

She reached up and gently guided his face back down to hers. "Maybe we can pretend," she said.

* * *

Phineas shoved the keyboard away and sat back, frowning at the screen.

"Any luck?" Ferb asked, looking up from his own computer.

"No. He's hiding in there somewhere, but I have no idea where. How about you?"

"I think I have some details worked out on capturing him, disabling the self-destruct, and holding him."

"Oh?" Phineas walked over, to look over Ferb's shoulder. He glanced at the data scattered around Ferb's screen. "Huh. Those are estimates of resistance to electrical attack?"

"Yes. One taser hit seems to slow them down a bit, but it'll take at least two to take one down, and that may not be fast enough to keep them from self-destructing. Which is why I've been working on this." Ferb pulled a drawer open, bringing out a large silvery pistol.

"And that is?"

"I call it the DIMMER. Dual Incapacitation Mode Manual Emission Railgun."

"And 'dimmer' as in 'lights out'?"

"Exactly. It's a combination tranquilizer and electric disabler. Five shots, but just one should be enough. The idea is that the electric shock will disable the implants long enough for the tranquilizer to knock them out. They should be unconscious for at least half an hour, probably an hour."

"And the fact that it looks - and works - like the Goodnight Gun from AEGIS Undercover is entirely coincidental?"

Ferb gave him a guilty smile. "I've sent the specs to Archer; he's having more made for when we find Echo Three. I've also been playing with plans for a rifle version. Do you want one of the pistols when they're ready?"

"No thanks, Ferb. You know guns aren't my thing. I've got shock tabs, that's as close to a weapon as I can handle."

"Let me make some DIMMER-enhanced tabs for you, then. Just in case."

"Sure, that sounds good."

Ferb nodded. "Once we catch him, we need to disable the self-destruct. There's four nodules around the body that seem to control it. Simultaneous four-way removal should take out the self-destruct without letting any of them go off. We shear the nerves going into each self-destruct center and run a charge in to keep them active, and then remove the blood vessels to remove them entirely. And this frame," he gestured toward a rotating 3D image of a steel frame covered with restraints, "should hold him while we work on the implants themselves."

"Nice," Phineas nodded. "We should get some really good data. If I can ever figure out who the heck he is."

Ferb patted him on the shoulder. "You'll get there. This guy is the best at hiding. There's either a piece of data you're missing, or an assumption you're making that you just can't see yet."

* * *

Isabella noticed the two people lurking in the alley as they walked past. A man was talking to a woman in a short skirt. They hadn't immediately concerned her, but something about them seemed off.

She'd been over to Katie's for pizza night again, and was walking back with Holly to where she'd parked the car. "Thanks for walking with me," Holly said.

"No problem," Isabella said, looking ahead. A van parked by the side of the road looked suspicious, and she turned on her auditory implants. She could hear the people in the alley moving out behind them, and two more in the van. The door handle clicked in preparation for opening.

"Down!" Isabella said, bringing her implants up to speed. Four on one...she might be able to do it, depending on what the attackers' goal was.

Holly pressed herself back against the wall, looking around, and dropped into a fighting stance as she saw the two people coming out of the alley. The man carried an electric baton, while the woman carried what looked like a taser. _Capture, then. Amateurs, probably, but amateurs with some practice._

The van door opened, and a man and a woman came out. The woman held another electric baton, while the man held a pair of cuffs. "We just want the mayor's assistant," the woman said.

"We'll protect you from her, slave," the man said. "It's okay."

The woman from the alley fired her taser at Holly, the electrified dart flying past Isabella as if in slow motion. She kicked out, knocking it out of the air, and it tumbled down to the sidewalk below.

Meanwhile, the woman from the van jumped toward Holly, swinging her baton. Holly ducked under the blow, hammering her in the stomach with her fist. The woman exhaled sharply and staggered back, dropping her baton as the wind was knocked out of her.

Isabella leapt toward the two from the alley, landing a kick in the chest of the man with the baton. He flew backwards, hitting the wall of the alley behind him, and slid down, unconscious. The woman brought up her taser again, but Isabella knocked her hand aside with a backhand, then grabbed the woman's arm and flipped her through the air, pulling the taser away as the woman flew past.

She grabbed the taser, spinning toward Holly and the two combatants from the van. The woman had reclaimed her baton and was warily prodding at Holly's defenses while the man circled around, trying to flank her. Isabella took aim and fired, and the dart flew into the man's back. He cried out, falling to the ground and twitching spasmodically. The woman flinched, and Holly tried to feint past the baton, unsuccessfully. The baton hit her shoulder, and she went down, crying out as her whole side seemed to crumple. The woman lifted the baton again to strike.

Isabella fired again, only to find the taser was empty. She grabbed the electric baton the man near her had dropped, and threw it. It caught the woman in the side of her chest, making her drop her own weapon. Isabella ran over, grabbing the cuffs from the man she'd hit with the taser and putting them on the woman, who seemed to be the leader.

Holly stood up, shakily. "Looks like there's more cuffs in the van. Let's get these folks locked up, and call the cops." She paused, looked at Isabella, and smiled slyly. "Operations, my ass. More like special forces."

Isabella held her finger to her lips. "Please don't tell anyone. It's important."

Holly mimed a zipper across her own lips.

As Holly called the police, and the adrenaline wore off, Isabella thought, _Fuck. Those were probably the same people who attacked the mayor. If I'd let them take me, I'd be halfway out of the country by the time the police were notified._

 _I just fucked up. Again._

* * *

Phineas nervously paced the floor. The police had called him to report that his slave had been involved in an incident, and while they'd reassured him that she was not in trouble and was unharmed, he knew he wouldn't calm down until Isabella was back.

The door lock clicked and the apartment door opened, and Isabella came through, looking none the worse for wear, followed by a police officer. He rushed over to hold Isabella and confirm that she was all right. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nestled into his arms, sighing happily. "I'm fine," she said.

"Mr. Flynn? I need you to sign here to acknowledge receipt," the officer said, rolling her eyes as she held out a clipboard and a pen. "Your car is parked below in your spot."

Phineas let go of her just enough to take the pen and scribble a signature on the receipt.

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, shaking her head at them and closing the door behind her as she left.

Phineas hugged her more tightly, then loosened his grip enough to look at her. "What happened? All I was told was that there was an incident and you were okay. And that the mayor thanked you, which was what had me _really_ worried."

She pulled him tighter, snuggling into his shoulder. "Some folks from the Anti-Slavery Front tried to attack Holly to get at the Mayor. They apparently didn't realize that we were both trained soldiers, and they...weren't."

"I guess those workouts help out, then?" he whispered into her hair.

"Yeah, the general was insistent that we stay in shape, even though we were just Ops."

"Ah," he said, kissing the top of her head. "If I ever meet him, remind me to thank him."

"He's dead, unfortunately. Tumbler bomb hit the bunker he was in."

He winced. "Sorry."

* * *

"So my cousin Russell was there - I've told you about him, right?" Carla asked.

Isabella thought for a second. "He's the truck driver?"

Carla nodded, pleased. "Yep. So we weren't sure he was going to make it because he was supposed to make a trip to Charleston, but it got cancelled at the last minute..."

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving, and Isabella had been listening to Carla talk about her holiday trip back to Duluth all day. Isabella liked hearing it, because she'd never had that sort of family experience. And as much as Carla loved to talk, she loved talking about her family most of all.

Isabella had spent Thanksgiving at Linda's house. Candace was still not willing to come back stateside, and Phineas and Ferb weren't allowed out of the country for national security concerns, so they'd had a video call instead of a visit. Amanda, Candace's daughter, was five and a half now, and Linda was talking about trying to fly over for a Christmas visit. Afterwards, the four of them had a nice, calm Thanksgiving dinner - Linda, Isabella, and the boys. Linda was still thrilled at the growing relationship between Phineas and Isabella, and made several less-than-subtle comments to Ferb that he might consider something long-term for himself.

It had been two weeks since Isabella had learned what was going on in the secure room, and she'd had no luck finding a way to run. Her time was all spent either with Phineas or here at work, except for pizza nights. For those, she had no access to the tools she'd need to crack her collar, and she suspected that Phineas's car was tracked. She was trapped just as thoroughly as she'd been with General Maybourne's finger on the Liquidator button.

The phone rang, startling Isabella out of her reverie. She'd missed a bit of what Carla had said, but that was okay, she'd repeat it later. "Hey, Izzy. This is Betty at the front desk. Letting you know that General Archer's messenger is on his way up."

"Thanks, Betty. I'll let the boys know." She hung up as Carla looked up at her.

"Messenger from Archer," she said, and Carla nodded knowingly, turning back to her paperwork. It was almost five, and rapidly approaching time to go home for the day.

Isabella walked through the doors into the lab area; Phineas and Ferb weren't in there, and weren't in their offices.

 _Bathroom, or the secure office?_

She decided to try the secure office first, and knocked on the door. "You in there?" she asked.

"We're here," Phineas's voice came through the door.

"There's a messenger from Archer on his way up."

"Thanks! Bring him back here when he arrives, please."

"Will do." She walked back to the lobby area just as the elevator dinged. A young black man in a captain's uniform stepped out. He looked her up and down, smiling. "This way, Captain," she said. "They're in the secure part of the lab."

"Good, good," the captain said, and she strongly suspected he was watching her ass as she walked.

 _Hopefully, I can keep that out of your hot little hands, along with the rest of me_ , she thought. Shaking her head, she knocked on the door of the secure office again. "General Archer's messenger for you."

"Be there in a sec," Phineas said.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Isabella said, heading back out to the lobby.

* * *

Phineas locked his computer screen and stood up as Ferb draped a sheet over the steel frame he'd been welding. He opened the door, saying, "Yes?"

"Delivery from General Archer," the young man said. "Identification?"

Phineas pulled his badge out on its retractable clip. "Phineas Flynn."

The man nodded, thrusting a clipboard and pen at Phineas. "Sign here please?"

Phineas scanned the paper; it was a standard receipt. He signed, and the man handed him a thumb drive. "The General's in town tonight, but had to go meet with some other people. He told me to tell you he'd try to stop by tomorrow." With that, the man turned on his heel and headed back for the lobby.

Phineas closed the door as Ferb whipped the sheet back off. "Lookin' good, Ferb." The frame _was_ looking good, actually; it was articulated so they could restrain Echo Three for experimentation, while still letting them manipulate his limbs into whatever position they needed him. Assuming they ever managed to catch him. Part of Phineas was hoping they didn't; he wasn't sure how well he'd stomach the experiments Ferb had planned. Phineas was about ready to tell Archer that he couldn't find Echo Three and that they should, instead, reinvent the implants from scratch.

Sighing, he sat back and plugged the thumb drive into his computer. "Looks like some more autopsy data on the known Dewdrop members, Ferb," he said, dragging the files over to Ferb's computer. "Encryption keys for the transmissions we got copies of a couple months ago, that might be handy. And some more personnel records for me." He dragged the files to his local hard drive, then opened them up "Oh, nice. They found the biometric database, and managed to match up the personnel records to the autopsy data. Now we know their real names. Looks like Sierra Six was a 'Sophia Evangeline Carter'."

Ferb looked up. "Does it give a name for Echo Three?"

"No, because we don't have any biometric info to match. Still, I'll see what I can do with the information we've got here."

Ferb shrugged and returned to his welding as Phineas pulled the information into the impromptu database he'd built of the Southwestern personnel records. _Let's see what this Sophia did_ , he thought, pulling up her record.

 _Huh. I suppose it was too much to expect that it would say, 'Assigned to Project Dewdrop' in it. Just the basics, claiming that she was in Ops. Her record looks as boring as Isabella's._

The thought of Isabella made him smile. He wished he could give her her freedom as a present, but...not yet. Archer had said he might be able to swing a pardon in a few more months. Maybe it could happen for Valentine's Day - that'd be the five-month anniversary of the day they met.

He should call it a night. The data would still be there in the morning. Take Isabella to dinner, then back home for a quiet night together. Or maybe a noisy one, depending on their moods.

He looked at the clock, which read 4:48pm. He couldn't quite call it quits for the day yet, so he brought up the list of known Dewdrop agents with the rest of their personnel files.

 _That's funny._

There were nine of them, and he recognized some of the names from his searches of the orphanage records. _Who names their kid Tyfani?_ He found the field in the records that indicated which orphanage they'd come from, and sorted the records on it. _Weird. Everyone from a given orphanage all joined on the same day._

Well, he supposed that made sense. They would have sent out their recruitment team and taken a batch at once.

 _I wonder. Does that mean I can use this to find the rest of them?_

He picked the first orphanage from the list, one in Las Vegas. There were two known Dewdrop members from there. Searching for every Southwestern soldier who joined on that date from that orphanage, he found two more. Both had the same sort of minimal record; one was marked 'killed in training accident', about a year after joining, while the other was marked KIA, with body parts found in a bunker that had been hit by a tumbler bomb.

He ran through the others, finding several more killed in training accidents or marked KIA. _Looks like this was a dead end. Hah!_ Dead _end!_ Okay, it wasn't that funny, but he was ready for the day to be done. He brought up the last orphanage on the list, in Albuquerque - he recognized it as the one Isabella had grown up at. There were three known Dewdrop members from there. Since the other orphanages had all had four draftees, presumably one was missing. _Hey, maybe Isabella can tell me something about these folks. It might help..._

His thoughts trailed off as the records came up, and he stared for a long moment at the screen, his brain refusing to accept what it said.

 **4 RECORDS FOUND**

 **CARTER, SOPHIA EVANGELINE**

 **DAVIS, ANTHONY WILSON**

 **GARCIA-SHAPIRO, ISABELLA MIRIAM**

 **HAMILTON, TIMOTHY ELIAS**

 _No._

He thought back, trying to remember any indication Isabella might have given that she was part of Dewdrop. Maybe that fight, the first night? She'd reacted really quickly, but he hadn't been completely in his right mind at the time.

She had a large appetite, but that wasn't necessarily a sign that she was Echo Three. He hadn't noticed any scarring or other indications of surgery. But, then, they were fairly sure a healing accelerator was part of the implant package.

He looked at the list again. _Sophia. Sierra Six. Echo Three's girlfriend. Wasn't Isabella's girlfriend in the service named Sophie?_

Hoping he was wrong, he brought up Sophia's and Isabella's files, placing them side-by-side.

They were practically identical. Same date of induction, same training platoon, same assignments, same superior officers. Isabella had made sergeant two days before Sophia. The only major differences were that Sophia's ended with a marking of KIA, 18 February 2022, and Isabella had gotten promoted to staff sergeant a week later.

 _Maybe it's a mistake, and the files got cross-linked somehow. Maybe they used Isabella's file as a template for Sophia's. Maybe it's a different Isabella Garcia-Shapiro who grew up in an orphanage in Albuquerque. Maybe she did ops work for Dewdrop._

He felt sick to his stomach. _Maybe I'm desperately trying to find a way to claim the woman I thought I loved is not, in fact, the biomechanically enhanced super-soldier who killed my father._

"Are you okay?" Ferb asked. "You don't look so well."

Phineas saw the restraint frame Ferb was welding, and his stomach rolled at the thought of it in use. "No, I'm not feeling that great." He turned off his monitor. "I think I'll head home a couple minutes early."

Ferb nodded at him. "Might want to have Isabella drive home."

"Yeah." As Ferb turned back to continue welding, Phineas pulled a few of the DIMMER-enhanced shock tabs out of the drawer and slipped them into his pocket. He hoped they wouldn't be necessary, but if Isabella really was Echo Three, he was going to need all the help he could get.

* * *

Phineas came out into the lobby, looking pale and uncomfortable. "Are you okay?" Isabella asked.

"I'm not feeling so great. Sorry for messing up our dinner plans," he said, giving a faint smile.

"It's okay," Isabella said.

Carla, packing up her purse for the day, said, "Maybe it was something you ate, hun."

"Yeah, something isn't sitting well. Are you up to driving home?" Phineas asked Isabella.

"Sure, that's fine. Should we go?"

"We should."

He led her back to the private elevator, where they rode down quietly. She pulled out her keys, unlocking the car and climbing in.

"Do you want to pick up dinner on the way home, order in, or...?"

"I'm not hungry. Whatever you want," he said.

"I'll just figure something out at home, then."

"Fine," he said curtly, staring out the car window.

* * *

Ferb finished welding the frame, stepping back to look at it. The metal shone brightly, polished and ready. Hinges would let them adjust the position of each major joint, so that they could move Echo Three around without releasing him.

 _Time to take a look at today's new data._ Ferb saw that they'd finally found the encryption keys - he could use those to crack the intercepted data streams they had. Some new personnel records for Phineas.

Phineas's comment echoed in his head. He'd noted who Sierra Six was, and then gotten ill. That was an unusual piece of timing.

With a shrug, Ferb walked over to Phineas's computer. Maybe if Ferb took a look at Phineas's database, he could find something interesting. He turned on the screen, noting the two records. On the left was one for Sophia Evangeline Carter - Sierra Six, Phineas had said. On the right...

 _Oh._

He suddenly realized why Phineas felt ill, but he felt no such weakness. The anger he'd kept suppressed came back to the fore.

 _She's been hiding under our noses. Laughing at us the whole time, I'm sure._

 _We'll see who's laughing._ He looked up at the frame again, a cruel smile crossing his face. Turning off the monitor again, he walked back to his desk, pulling out the DIMMER. He checked it, confirming it was loaded, and set it on the desk.

Pulling out his phone, he called General Archer's number. The General's aide answered. "This is a restricted number, please state your business."

"This is Ferb Fletcher. I have urgent time-sensitive news for General Archer. It's about Project Sledgehammer."

A moment later, Archer's voice came on the line. "Fletcher, what is it?"

"I know who Echo Three is. It's Isabella, Phineas's slave. I believe he's been compromised."

"Where are they?"

"Heading back to his apartment."

"I'll meet you there," the general said.

* * *

 **Source of the chapter title: "Whatever hits the fan will not be evenly distributed."**


	11. Confrontation

Isabella opened up the door to the apartment, and they went in. "Do you want to go to bed, hang out on the couch...what would you like?" she asked.

"I'll just sit," he said, taking a seat at the kitchen island.

"You still not hungry? I can make something for both of us," she said.

"I...no. You eat."

Isabella shrugged. "Suit yourself." A quick look in the refrigerator showed some steak that was planned for tomorrow's dinner, half a dozen eggs, a couple containers of leftovers. She grabbed some leftover chili, poured it into a bowl, and put it in the microwave.

A moment later, the microwave beeped, and she put the bowl on the island. Grabbing a spoon, she sat across from him, venturing a slight smile.

He looked back. The nausea seemed to have passed, replaced by...frustration? Anger? She didn't have a great grasp of his negative emotions, as she hadn't seen most of them yet. He was generally a pretty happy guy in her experience. "What's eating you?" she asked. "Something's up."

He sat back in the chair, looking at her wistfully. "Sophie...was her last name Carter?"

The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "Yes," she said, and put the spoon in her mouth before she could say any more.

"The boyfriend before that, Tim - Timothy Hamilton?"

She winced. "Yes."

Quietly, he asked, "Were you ever going to tell me? About Dewdrop? That you were Echo Three?"

She put another spoonful of chili in her mouth and swallowed without tasting it. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want the Central military to turn me into a lab rat. And then I found out who you were, and..." She dropped the spoon into her half-filled bowl, slumping in her seat. "'Oh, by the way, honey, that person you want to track down for killing your father? It's me.' I'm sorry. I hoped you'd never have to find out."

"Was it all a lie? Everything between us?"

"No!" she said, sitting up again. "No. I lied about what I did in the military, yes, but everything between us was the truth. I really, truly do love you." Closing her eyes and hanging her head, she softly added, "For all it's worth now."

She looked back up at him. He sat, his eyes full of pain, staring at her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know it doesn't mean much, but...I am sorry."

"I've seen what Echo team could do," Phineas said quietly. "That collar could never hold you. Why are you still here?"

She smiled at him thinly. "Well, it's not like I get a lot of alone time. The first time you went to Chicago, I got the tools ready and did some planning, but...I didn't think I could make it out before you got back."

"So _that's_ what happened to my multimeter!" he said. "I thought I'd misplaced it."

"It's hidden under the bottom drawer of the dresser. The second time..." She chuckled ruefully. "I decided I'd rather stay with you."

She heard the _click_ of the door lock, and jammed her implants to full power. She'd have a brutal headache when she turned them off, but better that than ambushed. The door slammed open, and Ferb came through, an odd pistol in his hands that looked like the knockout guns from AEGIS Undercover. He spotted her and fired, but she was already dropping behind the island. The shot hit the cabinet behind her, disintegrating against the wood.

"Ferb! Are you nuts?" Phineas shouted.

"She's Echo Three, Phineas," Ferb said coldly. "And you know it."

"I just figured it out, Ferb, and I wanted to talk to her about it first. And then you barge in here shooting!"

"I didn't want to give her a chance to trigger her self-destruct, you idiot!"

Isabella laughed out loud before she could catch herself. "Self-destruct? That's what you thought that was?"

"Don't lie about it," Ferb said. "I was watching when Sierra Six triggered it."

Isabella crouched on the floor, her back to the island, listening to make sure Ferb wasn't sneaking around on her. "It's not a self-destruct. It's a remote kill switch for the implants. Because that was what was important."

"Remote...that explains why we never found the trigger, Ferb," Phineas said.

"We called it the Liquidator," Isabella said, wiping at her eyes, which had grown unexpectedly moist as memories came crashing back. "It tells the implants to turn to jelly. It doesn't even kill directly, did you realize that? You die because all the oxygen-boost implants turn to snot. You drown on all the crap in your lungs. It's a horrible way to die, because they didn't give a fuck what happened to us as long as the implants were gone."

"Then who triggered it on Sierra Six?" Ferb asked suspiciously.

"I did. I was mission control for her. Did you ever have to push the button to kill someone you loved, Ferb?"

"Why did you do it?" Phineas asked quietly, after a long silence.

"Because I couldn't save her!" Isabella shouted, a little louder than she'd intended. She took a deep breath and said, "Maybourne was leaning over my shoulder. He would have pushed it, and then had me thrown in the brig for insubordination. Probably 'punish' me with the Agonizer, or kill me outright. Too dangerous to send on another mission. Instead, I got a promotion."

"Agonizer?" Ferb asked.

"Oh, you didn't find that one? There's two settings for the Liquidator. One melts the implants, and the other is just pure pain. The rule was not to use that one for more than thirty seconds at a time to keep us from clawing our skin off, trying to make it stop."

"Jesus," Phineas whispered.

"She's lying," Ferb said, a quiver in his voice.

"No," Phineas said. "No, you saw the autopsies, Ferb. Remote control makes more sense than the idea that every Dewdrop agent would willingly do that to themselves."

"Ferb, can I come out?" Isabella asked. "If I had a self-destruct, and wanted to use it, I would have by now. I promise I won't attack unless someone attacks me first."

A moment of silence, and then Ferb said, "Okay. You've promised. I won't fire unless you try to escape."

"Deal." Cautiously, she started to stand up, implants running at maximum in case Ferb was waiting to fire. She peeked over the island; Ferb was pointing the pistol in her direction but not directly at her. Good enough. She stood up the rest of the way. Phineas was standing between them, sideways, his head swiveling between his brother and his lover.

"Now what?" Phineas asked.

"She killed Father," Ferb said, his eyes hardening.

"I did. I'm sorry," Isabella said. "I had no choice. I told them it was the wrong person." She gave him a hesitant smile, which he didn't return. "I told them he wasn't the person in charge of Fletcher-Flynn Research, and they should let me track down the real scientists."

"And if you had refused?" Ferb asked.

"They'd have used the Liquidator. Sophie was my mission control. They'd have made her push the button."

Ferb winced.

"If it's any consolation, Ferb, you got the man who gave the order."

Phineas looked at her, puzzled. "Huh?"

"General Maybourne gave me a direct order to kill your father. He died when a tumbler bomb hit the Dewdrop bunker. Everyone left in Dewdrop except me was killed. I'd say that counts as you getting your revenge."

Ferb nodded thoughtfully.

"And if Intelligence hadn't fucked up, I'd have killed the two of you. No doubt in my mind. Your security was good, but not good enough."

"You probably would have," Phineas said carefully. "We tightened up our security after the bombing."

"I am truly sorry about your father, Ferb," Isabella said. "Please don't blame me for it. Blame the people who decided to go to war in the first place. Blame the generals who decided you and I should do _this_ instead of finishing high school and going to college."

"Archer grabbed us at sixteen, just like Maybourne grabbed Isabella," Phineas said. "And now Archer wants an army of Dewdrop soldiers to conquer Mexico in the name of more slaves."

"Please don't hand me over to the Central military," Isabella said. "Ferb, if you need to kill me, do it quickly, instead of letting Archer do it slowly."

"General Archer is on his way," Ferb said quietly. "I called him before I came over. I'm sorry."

"Fuck," Phineas whispered.

"If I cooperate..." Isabella began, reluctantly.

"I can't guarantee anything," Ferb said. "The General has plans beyond our work, and he's likely to want to separate you from Phineas."

"He'd use me as leverage on her," Phineas said to himself.

"And vice versa," Ferb said.

"I can't let him take you," Phineas said.

From outside the door, she heard whispered conversation. "They're here," she said, as the door crashed open and two soldiers came in, brandishing pistols like Ferb's. Ferb flinched and Phineas dove to the side as Isabella brought her implants back up to full speed. She grabbed the bowl of chili and threw it at the first soldier through the door, hitting him in the face. He dropped his gun to wipe his eyes as she leapt the counter, hitting him feet-first and knocking him backwards into the door.

Ferb had turned toward the door as it had opened, raising his gun, and the second soldier had reacted to the gun pointed in her direction by firing. Ferb's eyes widened briefly and then closed as he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

The second soldier was slowly turning toward Isabella, her pistol coming to bear. Isabella pulled it out of her hand, then hit her with a snap-kick that sent her to the floor. She started to stand up, and Isabella fired at her, knocking her out. The first soldier had cleaned his face enough to see, just in time for Isabella to tranquilize him as well.

She looked around quickly for another threat, only to see that General Archer had come in. He was holding Phineas by the throat, using him as a shield, and pointing a pistol at her - a military 9mm, not the Goodnight Gun replica.

"Easy," Archer said. She put her hands up, slowly, letting the pistol fall from her hand, keeping the implants active just in case. She kept her face impassive as Phineas's hand slid into his pocket, coming out with one of his shock tabs. He jabbed it into the general's thigh, and the gun fell to the ground as the general spasmed and twitched before falling unconscious.

Phineas looked up at Isabella, and started to laugh. She couldn't help it, she laughed along, on the verge of tears.

* * *

Isabella took a deep breath and dashed to the bedroom; Phineas followed.

"Do I need to knock you out too so I can get out of here without a problem?" Isabella asked as she pulled the bottom drawer out of the dresser.

Phineas paused, looking at her. She was businesslike in a way he'd never seen her before, her jaw set as she tossed electronics on the bed from their hiding place under the drawer. A half-dozen fake ID cards followed them. He thought about what Ferb planned, and how both of them had ended up at this point. And he made a decision.

"I'm going with you," Phineas said.

She looked up at him, annoyed. "Be serious. I can get away, but I can't get both of us out."

"You need me. And..." He looked at her, staring her down. "And I need you."

"Right. What can you do that I can't?"

He looked out the window, where flashing lights were approaching. "They're probably blockading the building already. How are you planning to get out?"

She paused, adding the last item to the pile, a small blue box with a power connector on one end. "I don't know. If I'd been smart and run earlier, it wouldn't have been an issue. But I _had_ to fall for you. More fool me." She sighed, looking up at him again. "Fine. Can you help with the collar?"

"Okay." He picked up the small blue box. "Why'd you grab a quantum tumbler core?"

She looked up at it and shrugged. "It looked interesting. I thought I could use it to bargain with the Canadian government if there was a problem. What's it do?"

"It's our ticket out of here. I'll explain later. Let's get ready to go." He pulled out the multimeter, two logic probes, and a reprogrammer, and in a moment her collar clicked open. She removed it gleefully.

"Thank you. For everything." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss.

He smiled at her, then said, "Much as I'd love to linger, we need to move. Let's grab what we need." He grabbed a backpack from the closet, tossing the tools into it. She added a couple pair of underwear for each of them.

"Why don't you raid the medicine cabinet while I change out of this dress," she said. "I'm going to need some ibuprofen, I am getting a _killer_ headache."

"Problem?" Phineas asked, concerned.

"No, it happens when I kick in the implants too fast." She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing. She pulled off her dress, tossing it on the bed, and he stared at her, wearing just her underwear, for a moment before going into the bathroom.

He tossed most of the contents of the medicine cabinet into the backpack. "Anything else we need?" he asked as she joined him, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt under a medium-weight jacket.

"Cash?"

"Got some. I've got my passport, although I assume we're requesting asylum. Leave your phone so they can't track us with it."

She dropped her phone onto the counter next to his. "So how do we get out of here?"

"I've got an idea, but it involves getting down to the basement," he said.

"Let's hope they aren't guarding the stairs yet, then."

"Stairs? But...right, elevator is a bad idea right now."

"The elevator is a very bad idea, yes. Trapping yourself in a little box is a good way to get caught." She took the backpack from him, shouldering it, and led the way out to the living room. None of the unconscious people were moving, although Ferb was drooling a bit.

"Do we take him?" Phineas asked, pointing to Ferb.

"Are you carrying him downstairs?"

"No, no I'm not. Good point."

She sighed. "Look, we don't know whose side he's on yet. If he's going to help us, then he can help us more next to Archer. If he's not on our side, then we really don't want him with us."

Phineas nodded. "Right."

Isabella knelt down, picking up the first soldier's unfired DIMMER. "What is this?"

"DIMMER. Knockout round, designed to take out Dewdrop soldiers."

She checked it, nodded, and put it in her belt. "Let's move."

"Sorry, Ferb," Phineas said as he followed her out the door.

The hallway was empty, fortunately; he'd been worried that neighbors would be poking their heads out to see what was going on. Isabella trotted over to the nearest staircase, pulling the pistol before she went through. Nobody awaited them, but as they passed through the door, he heard the _ding_ of the elevator arriving.

"More soldiers," she whispered. "They'll block the staircases as soon as they realize we're gone. Let's move." She started running down the stairs, rushing headlong. Phineas took the stairs two at a time, trying to keep up, and she still ended up waiting for him for a moment at the bottom of each flight.

They reached the basement without incident, and came out into a small storage area next to the parking garage. "Soldiers out there," Isabella whispered, jerking her thumb at the door.

"It's okay," he whispered. "Let me into the backpack."

She took it off, handing it to him, and he set it on the floor to root through it. In a moment, he pulled out the quantum tumbler core and a small battery pack. "Okay, put it on again," he said, connecting the battery pack to the core.

"It's later. What does that do?" she asked as she put the backpack on.

"It's the tumbler part of a tumbler bomb. It wraps a field around things and flips them through dimensions until it finds a pathway through to the next open space big enough to hold whatever's in the field. So for a tumbler bomb, it takes the bomb through a tank's armor or the earth above an underground bunker, then detumbles the bomb once it's inside. For us..." He smiled as the tumbler core powered up, the multicolored tumbler field spreading out to engulf him. "Get close," he said.

She stepped close to him, and the shimmering field stretched to cover her as well. "Now, we run at that wall," he said, pointing toward one of the foundation walls of the building.

She looked at him, disbelieving. "Seriously?"

"Trust me," he said. "Please?"

She looked up at him, then back at the door. She nodded to him, taking his hand.

"The faster we hit, the better. Let's go." They took off, running directly at the wall. He could hear the tumbler field warbling as it compensated for the movement, and then they hit the wall.

The field flashed white around them, and he saw flickering scenes through it, flashing too quickly for any to be seen as anything but an afterimage on his retina. Isabella gasped next to him.

And then, in almost no time, they came through into the parking garage of the office building across the street. A few cars sat in their parking spaces, but it was mostly empty. "How...?"

"Quantum tumbler. Too bad they're only good for one use." He disconnected the power supply and dropped the tumbler into a nearby trashcan, sticking the power supply into a pocket. "Let's go out the far side and see what we can find."

* * *

"General? Wake up?" a female voice asked hesitantly.

Ferb's eyes flickered open.

"Mr. Fletcher!"

Ferb looked up at the soldier leaning over him. He vaguely recognized her as someone who worked for General Archer, but didn't know her name. She looked shaken, and desperately in need of guidance.

"What?" Ferb asked quietly.

"Mr. Fletcher? What do we do? We were told to come up here, but not what was going on."

Ferb started to pull himself to a sitting position, then lay down again quickly as the room spun around him.

"We..." Ferb began. "We got hit with the DIMMER."

"I saw. We gave you all stimulant shots. Should we be trying to catch someone? Who did this?"

"Uhhhh..." General Archer said. "How...?" He sat up quickly, then steadied himself against the table leg. "Ow."

"General!" the soldier said, rushing over to him. "What happened, and what do we do?"

"Get...get the police involved. I want an all-points bulletin out for Flynn and the girl."

"Sure thing, sir. What grounds?"

"Escaped slave. Aiding and abetting an escaped slave," one of the other soldiers said, coming in from the bedroom. He was holding a disabled slave collar.

"It'll do," the general said, and the soldier went off to talk to the police dispatcher. "Fletcher, how...?"

Ferb had had a moment to ponder his situation. "My apologies, General. I wasn't expecting your troops to burst in right then, and when they did, I flinched in her direction. Apparently she shot me." He gestured toward the female soldier on the floor, who was starting to twitch like she was waking up.

Archer sighed. "This whole thing has been a clusterfuck from the beginning anyway. How did Echo Three stay hidden so long?"

Ferb sat up, hesitantly. "What are the odds that she not only got captured, but was sold to _Phineas_ of all people?"

"Ridiculous, I suppose. But no worse than the odds that she grew up across the street from you two."

"We assumed Echo Three was male, because we knew that Sierra Six was his - or, rather, her - lover. We never thought..." He paused, shaking his head. "We never thought that Sierra Six might be lesbian or bisexual."

"Same for Echo Three, I suppose."

"Well, I think we can definitively say that Echo Three is bisexual, not lesbian."

Archer laughed. "That we can. Dammit." He pressed his hand to his head. "Think there's anything for a headache in here?"

"I'll check the medicine chest. I could use something myself."

He stood up, warily, and staggered toward the bathroom. He pulled on the mirror, opening the medicine cabinet, and laughed. "Guess not," he said loudly, and stumbled back to the front door. The two soldiers were waking up, unsteadily, and Archer glared at him.

"There's nothing there," Ferb said. "They cleaned it out before they left."

"So how do we catch them?" the general said. "Higgs!"

The female soldier who'd awoken him rushed back in. "Yes, General?"

"Did Flynn and the girl get out of the building?"

"We think so, General. Not sure exactly how, nobody saw them leave."

"So where did they go?"

"Ultimately, I'd guess Canada or Mexico," she said.

"More likely Canada, I think," the general said thoughtfully. "They're more generous with asylum than Mexico is."

"Closer, too," Ferb said. "Probably Detroit."

"Makes sense. Higgs, tell the highway checkpoints to go to condition yellow nationwide, and the ones between here and Detroit to go to orange."

"Yes, Sir." Higgs rushed back out.

"I think I should head to the office and see what I can find out there," Ferb said. "Now that I know how the remote-kill system works, and that it has a pain setting, maybe we can do something with that."

"Good plan. I'll head over with you and use that as the base of operations. If that's okay."

"Fine with me, General. Let's get them."


	12. Getaway

"Hold your horses, I'm coming," Holly said through the closed door. The door swung open, and Holly raised her eyebrows at the two of them. "What's up?"

"Holly, I need to ask you a huge favor," Isabella said. "We're on the run, and need a way out of the city."

Holly looked down the hall, and gestured them in, closing the door behind them. "What happened?"

"Ferb figured out who - what - I am, and told the military," Isabella said.

"Which is what?" Holly asked, putting her hands on her hips. "And don't try telling me 'ops' again."

Phineas sat on the floor, leaning up against the wall. "She's an experimental biomechanically augmented super-soldier."

Isabella paused, her mouth open, then closed it. "What he said. It's probably better for you if you don't know more."

"Sweet merciful Jesus," Holly whispered, looking at them. "Seriously?"

Isabella nodded sadly. "Central military wants to vivisect me to make more like me."

"How likely is it that they'll track you here?" Holly asked, her eyes narrowing.

"I...maybe?" Phineas said.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do, then," Holly said. "You," she pointed at Isabella, "are going to tie me up so that I can get loose by morning if needed. Then you're going to take my car and head out. I don't want to know where. You'll need to leave the car somewhere and find another, but that'll be far enough out of the city that you're past the first round of checkpoints."

Isabella sagged with relief. "Thank you. What do we tie you up with?"

"Give me a minute to go to the bathroom first, then we'll figure it out."

* * *

General Archer had taken over the main part of the lab to track the efforts to recapture Echo Three while Ferb sat in the secure room, poring through the transmissions they'd finally found encryption keys for. He scanned through the dates, looking for one in particular, just over two years ago.

 _Jackpot_. _Now to prove she was lying._

He put headphones on and opened the video.

"Delta Bravo, this is Echo Three. Request target confirmation," a woman's distorted voice said quietly. Ferb wouldn't have recognized it if he hadn't known who it was, but now that he knew, it sounded like Isabella using a throat mic. He checked the code name list that Analysis had built up - Delta Bravo was the Dewdrop Bunker.

The video showed the parking lot in front of the Fletcher-Flynn Research Building. Along the bottom, a moving graph showed Isabella's heart rate.

From the angle the video was taken from, the camera was in a bus shelter on the street in front of the parking lot. Ferb knew that the security cameras covering this area had been mysteriously disabled, stuck showing a loop of the same hour over and over, so they'd guessed this was where the assassin had been. He could see his father's car sitting in a visitor space. Lawrence had stopped in to visit his sons for lunch, as he often did. But today...

"Echo Three, Delta Bravo. Confirmed. Your target is Lawrence Fletcher, fifty percent owner of Fletcher-Flynn Research," a woman's voice said.

"Delta Bravo, I think we have the wrong target," Isabella said.

"Echo Three, Linda Flynn-Fletcher is considered extremely unlikely to be the researcher. She is fifty percent owner because they're married." _No, they were the owners because Phineas and I were too young when we set it up_ , Ferb thought.

"Delta Bravo, not her. Fletcher does _not_ seem to be a researcher, and isn't here enough to be doing research. He's too easy to take out. The Cows would never leave their key researchers this vulnerable. Request permission to investigate alternate targets."

"Echo Three, Intelligence gives eighty-seven percent certainty that Lawrence Fletcher is your target. Proceed with mission."

"Delta Bravo, Intelligence needs to pull their head out of their ass. He's parking in a fucking visitor spot here." Ferb chuckled to himself as Isabella continued. "I'm telling you, this is _not_ the target, and killing him will just alert the real researcher. We won't get a second shot here."

There was a long pause. Suddenly, a bright red **A** flashed in the corner of the video, and Isabella gasped in pain as her heart rate spiked upwards. "Ah! What the fuck was that for?" Isabella asked after the **A** went away.

"Echo Three, Mike One says it's not your job to question Intelligence's conclusions," the other woman said reluctantly. "You are ordered to proceed with the mission or face Lima sanction." Ferb checked the list again - Mike One was General Maybourne, and Lima was the Liquidator.

"Delta Bravo, understood," Isabella said. "Deploying."

The video looked down, to the small case Isabella was carrying. She set it on the ground and opened it. A dozen small robots sat inside, flat squares with a leg coming off of each corner. Her hand retrieved a small remote with a touchscreen controller, and she quickly activated it. The robots awoke and, following her instructions, climbed out of the case. _That's how she did it_ , Ferb thought. He'd looked at the security tapes and not seen how the bomb was planted, but the robots would have been far too low to the ground to be visible from the security camera. Her seat had been carefully chosen to be out of the fields of view of all of the cameras.

The robots snuck across the parking lot at Isabella's deft commands, finally reaching Lawrence's car. Ferb could see her guiding them into place with the remote, focusing themselves so that they'd annihilate the passenger compartment. A few moved to the gas tank, while one sat itself on top of the starter. Once they were all in position, the remote went back into the case, which was picked up.

"Delta Bravo, in place. Leaving a camera and heading to safe house."

"Echo Three, understood. Get out of there."

A small camera came out of the case, and was stuck to the side of the bus shelter. A minute later, a bus stopped, and Isabella got on, flashing a monthly pass to the driver. She rode along for a bit, then got off a few blocks away, at a local hotel. Inside her room, the remote came out of the case again, and she tuned it to the camera, bringing up a view of the visitor parking lot again.

"Delta Bravo, beginning monitoring."

"Echo Three, understood. We watch with you."

A few minutes of silence followed, then Lawrence came out of the building. Ferb wanted to warn him, seeing him climb into the car, but knew it was far, far too late. He started the car, and suddenly it vanished in a brilliant flash, an explosion echoing through the street. Several cars nearby started to honk and flash their lights as their alarm systems activated.

"Delta Bravo, mission complete," Isabella said quietly. "Removing camera." She pressed a button on the remote, and the screen turned off. Ferb nodded, remembering the oddly melted hole in the bus shelter. They'd guessed it had been a piece of hot metal thrown from the explosion.

"Echo Three, confirmed. Come on home. Mike One says well done." A brief pause, and then a whisper. "I miss you."

 _She really did try to argue against it,_ he thought, before another realization came to him. If they'd activated the Agonizer, there was presumably a transmission that activated it that he could use. He skimmed back through the video to the point where the **A** showed up, then checked the timestamps. Looking through the transmission logs, he found a ten-second burst at just the right time. When he decrypted it with the codes they'd found, it contained just a timestamp and a brief code: **E3C2**. _Echo Three, control setting 2?_

He looked up at the frame he'd built to restrain Echo Three while they did experiments, and pondered how he'd have to adjust it. He'd assumed Echo Three would be male and about six feet tall, not...

He took a deep breath. Not a woman who looked harmless, and watched Space Voyagers with Phineas, and enjoyed the company cafeteria, and actually listened to Carla's interminable stories about Minnesota. Not the person his brother had fallen in love with. He could see her there, in his mind's eye, shackled to the frame, screaming as he cut into her...

He shuddered, and had to look away. It had been different when Echo Three was a cipher, a nameless evil. But Isabella was neither. She was a person he knew, who had been forced into a situation that led them all to this point.

A thought came to him, and he skipped through the videos until he found another familiar date. He'd seen this one from another perspective, but was curious what it looked like from Sierra Six's.

The video came up on his screen. "Delta Bravo, this is Sierra Six. Preparing to take my perch," a woman's voice said through a throat mic. Under the distortion, it sounded like the voice that had been mission control for Isabella's mission. She was riding an elevator up in a building two blocks away.

"Sierra Six, Delta Bravo," Isabella's voice said. "Confirmed. Your targets are Phineas Flynn and/or Ferb Fletcher, head researchers of Fletcher-Flynn Research."

The elevator doors opened on the top level. Ferb saw the corridor out to the balcony. He and Phineas had planned this out carefully, figuring that they'd probably send a sniper next, and planning out the optimal spots for a sniper to use. Then they set up traps in each of them that would detect the high-power sniper rifles that Dewdrop's Sierra team used.

Indeed, as Sierra Six walked down the corridor, steel doors clanged shut around her. Along the bottom, the heart rate jumped upwards. A hiss from the air vents indicated the knockout gas being pumped in.

"Shit!" Sierra Six said. "Delta Bravo, I'm trapped." She threw herself forward at high speed, crashing into the steel door without effect. She kicked at the doors, walls, and even the floor several times, only to find that Ferb had carefully reinforced them all to be secure against even enhanced attacks. Frowning, she sniffed. "Gas. I've got maybe a minute before it'll knock me out, and I don't think I can break out in time."

"Sierra Six, are you sure?" Isabella asked, worry in her voice.

"Yes." A pregnant pause, and then Sierra Six whispered, "Do it, Isa. I don't have any other way out."

Isabella was choked up as she said, "Activating Lima." In a hoarse whisper, she added, "I'm sorry, Sophie. I love you."

A bright red **L** flashed in the corner, and Sophie gasped in pain. "I love you too," she coughed. The camera dropped down, coming to rest on the floor. Ferb could hear the sickening sounds of Sophie choking to death as the **L** continued to flash. At the bottom of the screen, the heart rate display fell to zero.

He pulled the headphones off and closed the video. A check of radio transmissions found a likely one, which he decrypted; it had a timestamp and the code **S6C1**. _Sierra Six, control setting one. And so a young woman died at her lover's hand._

There was a knock on the door, and Archer's voice saying, "Fletcher? Got something for you."

Ferb wiped his eyes, then stood and opened the door, letting the general in. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry as the door closed.

"Realized that we'd put in the fancy new scanners in Danville City Hall before the Owners' Ball. We lucked out there, they had the data on a sixty-day retain cycle. Another week and this would have been gone." Archer dropped a thumb drive into his hand. "All the deep-scanner records of that night. Echo Three should be in there. Let's take a look."

Ferb nodded and led Archer to his computer. He put the drive in, bringing up the scan. He nodded as he looked it over. "Very subtle differences, but if someone had had cause to look at them, they would have noticed." He brought up Phineas's scan for comparison. "Notice how Isabella's muscles are darker in the scan. Denser. Little dark bits along the lungs indicating the implants."

Archer leaned over his shoulder. "Huh. So, anything useful you can get out of these?"

"Quite a bit, actually. These are the first high-resolution scans we've gotten of a Dewdrop soldier." He touched a few keys, banishing Phineas's scan to the side and merging Isabella's scan with his existing Dewdrop information. He zoomed in to a small nodule in her left shoulder. "We can see how the remote-kill system integrates to the rest of her nervous system now, and it's completely different than what we expected."

"Remote-kill system? You mentioned that earlier. What is it?"

"Sorry. What we thought was a self-destruct is actually a remote-kill system. It was triggered by mission control, not by the agent. Two settings, 'pain' and 'kill', called the 'Agonizer' and the 'Liquidator'. See, there's the decoder chip there, too small for a low-res scan to pick it up. It looks like it uses positive control, so instead of removing all four nodules simultaneously, we just disconnect the antenna _here_ and it's done."

"Hm," the general said, rubbing his chin. "But if it's all controlled externally, we don't want to disable it. Once we capture her, we can use it to keep her under control. Your brother, too, for that matter."

Ferb raised an eyebrow at the general.

"Look, I know he's your brother, but clearly on this project, he can't be trusted. He'll be lucky to avoid a collar of his own. But we can use the two of them as leverage on each other. As long as they cooperate, they get to spend time together. He stops cooperating, we start testing her pain threshold. She stops cooperating...we can find something to do to him. If he's collared, there's a shocker in it."

Ferb nodded as his mind screamed. _Not my brother, you don't._

Archer clapped Ferb on the shoulder. "Good job, Fletcher. See if you can nail down the frequency and coding for the transmitter before your brother decides to disable it."

Ferb paused for a moment. _Phineas probably will try to disable it. But he thinks you need to remove all four nodules, and I'd bet that would kill her. Without the nodules providing positive control of the implants, they'll self-destruct._ He remembered seeing Sierra Six die, gasping for breath, and suppressed a shudder. "I was able to watch a Liquidator message get sent, so I know how to send them. Can you get your men to set up a high-powered transmitter on..." He flipped through the transmission list until he found the one he wanted. "308MHz. I'll hand off the coding."

"Is it safe? If we just broadcast on that frequency..."

"It's timestamp-based and encrypted. Anything without the right codes will be ignored."

"Sounds good. I'll get them going on a transmitter. We can build a primary one here, then set up repeaters. Send out the pain signal until she surrenders."

Ferb nodded. _We'll see about that._ "I'll send a morse code surrender message, then we can set it up to send at intervals. Thirty seconds on, five minutes off."

"Why?"

"She said it was policy not to run it more than thirty seconds to keep them from injuring themselves."

Archer snorted. "Do what works." He turned toward the door, then turned back. "308MHz, you said?"

"Right."

He poked into the code systems, trying to make sure he found the right way to encode it. _Can't afford to get this one wrong._

 _Hopefully, some day, Isabella might forgive me for what I'm about to do, but I think it's the only way to save her life._

* * *

"First set of roadblocks ahead," Phineas said as he slowed to a stop behind the wall of cars that blocked the highway. "Guess it's time to find out how good our fake ID is. And hope they haven't gotten pictures out to the roadblocks yet."

Isabella swallowed the bite of pizza she was chewing, and said, "My ID looks fine. You haven't said what yours is yet." They'd stopped to pick up a pizza to let her rebuild her energy reserves as they drove northward in Holly's car.

He grinned and took his wallet from his pocket, removing the blank card from the back. He pulled out his driver's license and handed it to Isabella, saying, "Hide this."

She slid it into the crack between the seat and center console. "Now what?"

"What's the name on your ID?" he asked.

She pulled out a card. "Kelly Brown."

"Address?"

"117 Taylor Street, Danville."

Phineas pressed his thumb onto the blank card, and said, "My voice is my passport. Verify me."

The card spoke in a quiet voice. "Data?"

"Jacob Michael Brown. 117 Taylor Street, Danville."

The card filled in with text, and a picture of him. It looked exactly like a valid driver's license for one Brown, Jacob Michael who lived on Taylor Street.

"Impressive," Isabella said.

"Thanks. Little toy I created to help our agents a while back. I kept one for myself. Should have kept two, I could give you one." He slid it into his wallet, then put his wallet back in his pocket.

The car crept forward to the checkpoint, where two armed soldiers were checking identification for the people in each car. A young uniformed black woman signaled to Phineas to roll down his window, which he did. "Can I see your identification?" she asked in a bored voice.

Phineas fished out his wallet, retrieving the magic ID card, while Isabella pulled her own fake ID out. He passed both of them over, and she glanced at them, then into the car. "Thank you, citizens," she said as she passed them back. "Move along."

"Thank you," Phineas said as he smoothly accelerated away from the checkpoint.

"We won't get away with that again," Isabella said. "They're still getting organized."

"Nope. Let's hope we can get a ways ahead before we need to get off the highways. Where's the next permanent checkpoint, do you remember?"

"About another hundred miles a...augh!" Isabella tensed suddenly, her face freezing in a rictus of pain.

"What is it?" Phineas asked.

As quickly as it had come, Isabella sagged, then winced as it returned. It vanished again a moment later, then came back for one more short pulse before it paused briefly. "They found the Ag..." She winced again, this time for longer, before it turned off again. Two more longer pulses followed before another pause. "The Agonizer," she gasped. "But what...?" Another flash of pain, short, and then a longer one before a shorter one.

"Morse," Isabella gasped. "S-O-R..."

"I don't know Morse," Phineas said. "But if you can tell me the letters, I'll keep track of them."

He drove along, building words out of the letters Isabella said in the pauses. Finally, she sat back in her seat, the transmission apparently complete. "What did it say?" she asked, her voice rough and dry. She curled her legs under herself, shivering a bit.

Phineas cleared his throat. "Quote: 'Sorry, Iz. Liq uses pos ctrl. Detach rod left shldr. A thinks Det. Good luck. F.'"

"What does that mean?"

"It means that he's figured out that we don't want to disable the Liquidator the way we were thinking, because the implants will melt if the control nodes aren't there. Instead, we should disconnect the rod in your left shoulder. I remember seeing in one of the autopsies that there was a conductive rod there, but we weren't sure what it is. I bet it's the antenna."

"How do we get to it?"

"We find an infirmary we can...borrow."

"What does 'A thinks Det' mean?"

"Archer thinks we're going to Detroit."

"So which way do we go?"

"I think, up through Minnesota. It's the next-closest way out, and they wouldn't think to look for us that way."

Her breathing had slowed. "I'm not sure if I want to thank Ferb or kill him right now."

"Can't say I blame you. He did apologize, though."

* * *

"How do we know if this thing works?" General Archer said, glaring at the transmitter unit.

"We can't be sure until we catch up with them. They'll get out of range of it eventually, anyway."

"Okay. We'll get repeaters going all the way to Detroit." He looked down at the frequency readout on the transmitter. "306MHz. I'll get people on it." He started to walk off, then paused. "306? Is that right?"

Ferb nodded. "I think so." He'd hoped that Archer wouldn't notice that he'd bumped the frequency down after he finished sending the Morse code message. The transmitter was now sending on a sequence of 30 seconds on, five minutes off, but this way, it wouldn't actually affect Isabella.

Archer nodded and went over to his aide, who looked up from his secure phone. They talked quietly.

Ferb pulled out his phone and bought a plane ticket for his mother, then sent her a message.

 **Mother -**

 **It's been too long since we visited Candace and Amanda in England. I'm going to be busy for a few days, but why don't you go ahead and greet them for me?**

 **F**

When the war had been going poorly for Central, they'd made plans to get her out if things went wrong; he could only hope she remembered them.

Archer came back over. "Can you double-check the 306 thing? I'd swear that wasn't it."

 _Damn._

Ferb led the general back into the secure room, bringing up the list. The general, looking over his shoulder, said, "There. 308. I thought 306 sounded wrong. I'll go tell the folks setting up repeaters." He reached over and turned the knob.

 _Sorry, Isabella._


	13. Manhunt

The lock clicked open, and Isabella slowly opened the door. She peered into the dark room. "Clear," she said.

Phineas followed her in. "We need to do this quickly," he said. He flipped on the lights and nodded. "Definitely looks good."

The small infirmary off to the side of the volunteer fire station wasn't much, just a small white room. A bed on one side was bare. A small cabinet next to it was closed. Two garbage cans sat on the floor near the cabinet, one marked 'Biohazard'. One wheeled stool stood near the bed; the other was in front of a counter with a sink and a box of latex gloves.

"Okay, let's do this," he said. "If you're up to sitting through it, that's probably the easiest way."

"That's fine. The implants will let me dampen pain."

"Except for the Agonizer," Phineas said, opening drawers. He pulled out a suture kit and a small scalpel, setting them on top of the cabinet. He added some forceps and alcohol swabs.

"Well, of course not. Are you sure you can do this?" Isabella asked, taking a seat on one of the stools.

"Yeah, not a problem." Phineas washed his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves. "I know where he's talking about, we just need to get in a bit and disconnect the antenna."

"Okay. Make it happen."

Phineas blushed. "Um...you're going to need to take your shirt off. Probably the bra, too, to make sure I don't get blood on it."

She raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded and pulled her shirt over her head. She reached back and unhooked her bra, setting them both on the bed. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it all before under more pleasant circumstances.

Phineas pressed on her left shoulder, about an inch below the collarbone, prodding. "Ah. There it is," he said, evidently finding something. He probed along, pressing in about three inches below. "Ready?"

She nodded, and then agony lanced through her body. _Agonizer_ , she barely had time to think before the pain overwhelmed her senses. This time, it wasn't a brief pulse - it was drawn-out, seeming to last for an eternity of pure pain.

It stopped. She was leaning forward, holding onto Phineas, his arms around her. She tried to slow her breathing. "Hurry," she said. "I don't know how many more of those I can take."

"Okay. I'll do this as quickly as I can." He wiped down her shoulder with the alcohol, then took the scalpel. He cut a small incision, and she muted the pain. It felt more like pressure as he wiped up the blood with a pad, then spread the incision open a bit. "Give me just a moment...damn."

"What?" she asked.

"I'm a bit low. Let me work upwards a bit." He cut a little more with the scalpel, then reached in with the forceps. "There we go. Let me cut this..."

Pain returned, and the muting went away. She screamed; she couldn't help herself. Her entire body was filled with agony, like she was made of jagged glass shards that tumbled around and cut her from the inside.

And then, it stopped, much faster than the last time. Phineas pulled the scalpel out of the incision with a sigh of relief. "I guess it worked."

"Thank you," she said.

"See, I told you I'd come in handy. Let me stitch you up, and then I think we get going again." He picked up the suture kit and started to stitch.

"Take Holly's car again?"

He looked around. "Actually, I was wondering if we might want to grab the ambulance."

"Wouldn't that draw attention to us?"

"Yes, but they'll see the ambulance and decide we're not the people they're looking for. Might get us through another roadblock."

She nodded. "Sounds good."

* * *

"We found how they got out," Archer said as Ferb came out of the secure room to find more coffee and the bathroom, not in that order.

"Oh?"

He pointed at a spent tumbler core on the desk. "Skipped over to the apartment building across the street. Found a taxi that took them from there over to East Danville."

Ferb picked up the core, spinning it in his fingers. "From there?"

Archer frowned. "Apparently, they went to the home of a..." He looked down at a paper on the desk. "Holly Washington, evidently his ex-girlfriend?"

Ferb nodded. "Yes. And a friend of Isabella's. She's the mayor's assistant."

"Oh, _that_ Holly! Of course. They used that to ambush her and steal her car. We have a record of the car going through the northbound checkpoint, so we can assume they're out of Danville now."

"Is Holly okay?"

"Yes, just a little shaken. They tied her up so they could escape. She got loose and called it in."

 _Awfully convenient. Well done, Phineas._

"Sir, we've found Ms. Washington's car," a soldier said, listening to an earpiece.

"Where?"

"Delavan, little town in Illinois. Outside a volunteer fire station. Looks like..." He listened for a moment. "There's blood in the infirmary. Just a little."

"You can turn off the transmitter if you want," Ferb said. "No point. Phineas disabled the receiver."

"Damn." Archer turned to his aide. "Let's leave it running, just in case." He paused, then frowned. "How did he know how to do it? I thought you were expecting to have to remove the nodules."

"I'd assume Isabella told him the right way."

Archer nodded sagely.

 _How much do I help here? I need to keep Archer thinking I'm on his side. Phineas, I hope you're looking a couple steps ahead._ "How did they get away from the station, then, if they left Holly's car?" Ferb asked.

Archer froze for a moment, then turned to the soldier. "Are any vehicles missing from the fire station?"

The soldier spoke into his microphone, then listened for a moment. "They're not completely sure, but they think the ambulance is missing."

"They _think_?" the general asked, incredulously.

"It's not exactly a big city, sir. It's a volunteer department. Somebody may have driven it home and not logged it."

The general shook his head. "Put out a top-priority search for the ambulance."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

"This had better work," Isabella said.

They'd grabbed uniforms from the back of the ambulance, so they looked like they belonged in it. They'd decided to avoid the highways, but the military had apparently decided to set up a roadblock on this deserted scenic-route alternative, far away from the nearest town. A HMMWV sat blocking both lanes, with a narrow passage around it.

There were only four soldiers at the roadblock, and Isabella wondered if there were more hiding nearby. Four soldiers who weren't expecting her would have a hard time stopping them.

Regardless, she wanted to get through unnoticed if she could.

"It'll be fine," Phineas said.

She rolled down the window as they came up to the soldier who waited. The soldier looked in at the two of them and nodded. "Anyone in the back?" she asked. In the background, two other soldiers were watching, holding their rifles prepared but pointing at the ground, while a fourth talked on the radio.

The fourth looked up sharply, calling over, "Hey, Sanders, come here for a minute!"

"Hold here, please," the soldier said, walking over, and Isabella brought her implants up to speed as her hand rested on the DIMMER pistol hidden on the floor .

"The folks we're looking for grabbed an ambulance. Get 'em out for a full inspection," the one with the radio said quietly, and the first walked over toward the two with rifles.

Isabella whipped the DIMMER up, firing a shot at each of the two with rifles. The one with the radio gawped at her as her third shot took him in the chest. As she hit the final soldier, the first was just hitting the ground.

"N...nicely done," Phineas said, shaken. "But why?"

"They'd just found out we have an ambulance. Come here, help me get them off the road."

They bound the soldiers and dragged them off the road, and Isabella took their radio and one of the rifles. "Central doesn't put trackers in their radios, do they?" she asked.

"Yes, and I think there's palm-print stuff in the rifles," he said.

She looked at the rifle, noticing the identification pad, and dropped them both unhappily. "Oh, well." They moved the HMMWV off the road and hid it as best they could, popped the hood to quickly disable it, smashed the radios, then got back in the ambulance. "We need to ditch this in the next town," she said. "Hopefully we can find something good to replace it with."

* * *

"Dammit. We're too far out," Archer said, yawning as he came into the secure room. "They've gotten too far ahead of us."

Ferb hid the window where he was copying all of his research to a thumb drive, and looked up at Archer. "Found them again?"

"They hit a roadblock in northern Illinois a couple hours ago, on a side road. Knocked out the soldiers and snuck past."

"Huh." He saw the copy window wink away as it completed. "Are they still in the ambulance?"

"No, we found that in the next town up the road. We haven't figured out what they took as a vehicle from there." Archer sat in the seat at Phineas's desk, grumpily.

"Where do we set up a new field base, then?"

"I figure we relocate to the Tower during the day today, since they're going past Chicago anyway. They'll probably go to ground as well, and then tomorrow night, we hammer them."

"Sounds good, General. Give me about ten minutes, and I'll be ready to go."

"You've got five," Archer said, stomping back out the door.

Ferb ejected the thumb drive and pulled it out, putting it in his pocket.

* * *

Phineas lay back in the straw with a sigh, and Isabella curled up next to him.

"Get some sleep," she whispered.

"You too, okay? I know you've got energy reserves, but...let's save them for when we need them, okay?"

She nodded and closed her eyes, and he looked around the barn. They'd ditched the ambulance and uniforms, and 'borrowed' a dirt bike and a pair of helmets from behind a house nearby. (He'd insisted on leaving some cash to repay the owner.)

They'd ridden through the dark, staying off-road as much as possible, for several hours, until the sun started coming up. They'd risked one stop at a small convenience store to refill the gas tank and grab some coffee, keeping their helmets on to help stay incognito. Then, they'd found this old barn which looked like it had been closed up for the winter. They'd hidden the bike inside it, then climbed up into the hayloft to get some sleep.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Her eyes drifted open, and she smiled at him. "I'm sorry too. I got you into this mess."

"If I'd just...not noticed..."

She laughed gently. "You wouldn't be you if you hadn't noticed. If only Ferb hadn't called in the military..."

"I know. I _think_ he's on our side now."

"I've got _words_ for that Morse code bullshit," she said bitterly.

"Yes, but he gave us the info we needed to disable the Liquidator without killing you."

"Maybe he's taunting us," she said.

"I wish we had a way to talk to him."

The barn door swung open, and Isabella's hand reached for the DIMMER. There was only one shot left, but it was better than nothing.

"Hello?" a male voice said from below. "Are you passengers?"

Phineas sat up, leaning over the edge. A farmer stood below, holding a shotgun in the crook of his arm. "Passengers?" Phineas asked, puzzled.

The farmer brought the shotgun up a bit, grasping the fore end in his left hand. "Underground railroad. You aren't passengers?"

"Oh! We're not with the railroad, but...she's an escaped slave, and I'm helping her run." Phineas gestured back at Isabella, who stuck her head up and waved.

The farmer slid the shotgun back down to the crook of his arm. "Okay. You want pointers to the next rest stop?"

"Probably not wise," Phineas said. "I think they're going to try to track us. If we'd known, we wouldn't have led them toward you."

The farmer nodded. "Figured it was something like that. She corporate-owned? They're right bastards about trying to track 'em down."

"Military," Phineas said. "Experiments."

"Ain't that a son of a bitch." The farmer spat. "Stay as long as you need, folks. That your bike?"

"Um. For the moment?" Phineas said, embarrassed. "I left some money when we borrowed it."

"How 'bout I bring you back some gas for it, then? There's some MREs down here if you need 'em." He gestured toward a small box labelled "Feed".

"That would be incredible, sir," Phineas said. "Thank you very much. Is there any way I can repay you?"

The farmer smiled up at him. "Get her across the border safe. Make her a free woman again. That's all I ask."

Phineas looked at Isabella, a soft smile on his face. "I can do that."

* * *

"Fletcher!"

Ferb woke with a start. The plane had landed in Chicago, and Archer was leaning over him.

"Sorry. Catching up..."

"Not a problem. Soldiers sleep where they have to. Let's get to the Tower. We can plan out how to block them from getting across the border in Detroit, with backup plans for other cities."

"Okay," Ferb said as he stood up.

"I want you on-site as my backstop, Fletcher. Once we pin down where they're going, you're in charge of the scene."

* * *

Isabella woke to a gentle kiss on her forehead, and a soft, "Hey, time to get moving." She was lying in the hayloft with Phineas's arms around her. The shadows coming in through the window were long in the golden-red light of the setting sun.

She sat up and stretched, rolling her shoulders. Phineas's hands started massaging her neck, his skilled fingers seeking out the knots. Her head sagged forward as she sighed in contentment.

He leaned over to kiss the back of her neck. "Let's grab some dinner and then get started."

She climbed down and pulled a pair of MREs out of the cache before returning to the loft. "What sounds good: chili mac or beef stew?"

"Either. You pick."

She looked down at the two packages in her hands. "I'll take the chili mac, then."

They ate a quiet companionable meal as the sun set, then climbed down and disposed of the trash. The farmer had told them that he'd make sure it got cleared.

"You ready?" she asked, pushing the bike out of the barn as he pulled on his helmet.

He followed her out, looking around. The night was chilly and dark, with a full moon rising in the east. Isabella straddled the dirt bike, kicking the starter and bringing it to life. Phineas took up his seat behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle. She turned on the headlight and roared off into the woods.

* * *

"We just got a report of what they took as a vehicle - apparently there was a dirt bike stolen from behind a house near where the ambulance was left. A stack of money was left to pay for it," General Archer said, reading a paper an aide had just handed him.

"Interesting. Any idea where they went with it?" Ferb asked.

"Nope. We haven't picked up on them yet, but I know it's just a matter of time. We're going to try to drive them toward you if we can't catch them directly. I think it's time for you to head to Detroit. They'll probably get there tonight."

"And if they aren't going to Detroit?" Ferb asked.

"We'll redirect you if we get better intelligence."

* * *

Phineas walked along behind Isabella as they came into the small town. The bike had broken down on them several miles back, and they'd had to leave it behind, walking through the dark for an hour.

"How do we get out of here?" he asked quietly. His breath fogged in front of him in the chilly air.

She shrugged. "We'll figure it out as we go."

"Doesn't look like there's much here." If anything, he was understating it. There was a gas station and convenience store, and a post office. A flashing red light indicated a four-way stop at the intersection between them. A few snowflakes drifted down.

"Look, let's get some food, and see what we can do from there," she snapped.

"Sorry," he said, reaching over to rub her shoulder a bit.

She shot him a quick glare, then her face softened. "I'm sorry too. I'll feel better with a bit of food."

A bell rang as they walked into the convenience store, and a bored-looking young man looked up from behind the counter. He ran a pale hand through his thinning brown hair and nodded to them.

Isabella led them to the refrigerator case, pulling out a couple microwave burritos. Phineas grabbed one for himself, handing it to her. "Can you heat this up, and I'll get some coffee for each of us?"

"Sounds good," Isabella said.

Phineas poured two large coffees, putting sugar and cream in his while leaving Isabella's black. He heard the ding of the microwave just before the bell on the door rang. A tall black man in a flannel shirt and trucker cap that read "Intercontinental Transport Inc." walked in.

"Hey, Bill," the man behind the counter said.

"Mornin', Ed," the trucker said, nodding.

Ed looked at the clock and laughed. "Hey, it is, isn't it!"

Phineas came up to the counter with the coffee as Isabella arrived with the burritos. He paid for them as Isabella eyed Bill speculatively.

They walked out, finding a tractor-trailer pulled up to the diesel pumps. "Keep walking?" Phineas asked.

"Give me a minute." She took a bite of her burrito.

A moment later, Bill came out, carrying a large coffee and a small sack. He glanced at them as he walked toward his truck.

"Hey, mister," Isabella called, and Bill turned to look at them.

"Yeah?"

"Which way you heading?"

"North," he said, gesturing in that direction.

"How far?"

He shrugged. "International Falls."

"Interested in a couple passengers?"

He looked them over, thinking, and then frowned. "Not really."

"We can pay," she added. "Couple hundred bucks?"

He nodded slowly. "You need to sit on his lap, I only got one passenger seat."

"That's fine." She took Phineas's hand, tugging on it. "Pay the man, and let's go."

* * *

The airplane phone rang as they were approaching Detroit. "Fletcher."

"Archer here. I'm pulling you out of there. They suckered us."

"Oh?"

"We found the bike, abandoned north of Eau Claire. They went toward Chicago until they had to choose between Detroit or Minnesota, then ran north."

"Guesses on where they're going?"

"A clerk near where the bike was found thinks they might have caught a ride with a trucker who was heading to International Falls. I want you there to backstop the soldiers. We're going to try to intercept, but they may slip past. I'll meet you there."

"Understood. I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up the phone and turned to the steward. "Tom, tell the pilot to redirect to International Falls."


	14. Showdown in International Falls

They'd come into International Falls by back roads, at Isabella's suggestion, and Bill dropped them a few blocks from the train yard where he was delivering his load.

"Thanks, Bill. We really owe you one," Phineas said.

"Hey, no problem. Take care, you two." With a jerk, the truck pulled away, and the couple slipped through the pre-dawn twilight toward the bridge. They'd left the snow behind an hour or so south, and the clear air was crisp and cold.

"How do we get across?" Phineas asked.

Isabella shrugged. "Ideally, we just walk across the bridge. Let's go see what the situation looks like." She nodded toward a building that overlooked the bridge. "Up there."

* * *

The helicopter landed at the American end of the bridge, and Ferb hopped out. The captain in charge hustled over, a frown on his face.

"What the hell's going on here? My men got scrambled to guard this bridge, but no indication of what the fuck we're looking for."

"We are looking for two fugitives." Ferb handed over pictures of Phineas and Isabella. "We want to take them alive."

"Can I ask why?"

"Do you want the cover story or the real story?" Ferb asked.

The captain sighed. "Both, I bet."

"The cover story is an escaped slave and her owner who's aiding and abetting her."

"Seriously? Full military roll-out for that?"

Ferb shrugged. "Real story, Southwestern military research subject and the Central researcher who was working with her."

"Shit." The captain looked at Ferb for a moment, as if trying to judge how serious he was. He winced when he realized Ferb wasn't joking. "Okay, so what do we need to know to take these folks down? I've been told to use non-lethal force, but not to rely on tasers. What am I supposed to use, harsh language?"

"I've got some experimental weapons for you. How many men do you have?"

"Twenty-four. There's another hundred or so inbound, but they won't be here for at least an hour, maybe more."

"Okay. I have twelve DIMMERs for you, so pair people up, one with a DIMMER and one with a taser."

"What's a DIMMER?"

"Non-lethal knockout round. What's your current force distribution?"

"I was told to keep everyone here until you arrived."

"Right. Put four soldiers on the dam to keep it secure. Send four down to the train bridge at Pither's Point. I want ten on the roadblock to search vehicles, two pair at the end of the pedestrian side, and one pair patrolling the walkway. Now go set things up."

The captain stormed off, setting up the roadblock. Ferb watched dispassionately, noticing several spots where Phineas and Isabella could slip past and head down the bridge. He smiled approvingly at them.

The captain stomped back, holding a radio. "The commander on the Canadian side wants to talk to the person in charge," he said with a smug grin. "That would clearly be you."

"Certainly," Ferb said, taking the radio. "Commander?" he said into it.

"You're in charge over there?" a female voice said over the radio.

"Yes, I am, for the moment. What can I do for you?"

"What the blue blazes is going on over there?"

"I'd prefer not to say over the radio. Can we meet somewhere to discuss it?"

"I'll meet you at the border on the walkway in 10 minutes," she said, and the radio went dead.

* * *

"Looks like about sixteen soldiers guarding the bridge. Groups of two," Isabella said, ducking back down. They'd snuck up to the roof of a building overlooking the roadblock. A pedestrian walkway went down the left side, next to a service lane. Two Canadian soldiers stood at the border, a short distance from the far bank. A rail lane, also used for trucks, ran between the service lane and two passenger vehicle lanes. A large pipe ran from the nearby mill, over the rail lane, and down between the rail lane and the passenger lanes.

"Can we get across the river some other way?" Phineas asked.

"No, they've got scanners running along the waterline. We should have picked a border crossing that wasn't across a river."

"Not like we had a lot of choice. And they've found Bill by now, I'm sure, so we can't really go anywhere else."

"I know. How about the dam?"

"Too many people guarding the dam and no way to sneak up on them," Isabella said.

Phineas popped his head up, glancing around quickly, and then froze. He saw Ferb walking back along the bridge from the center, talking into a radio.

"Get down," Isabella whispered, pulling on his shoulder, and he dropped back below the roof edge.

"Sorry. Ferb's there."

"That's bad."

"I think so, yes. It means they know we're here."

Isabella frowned "Let me take another quick look." She looked over the edge of the roof, nodding, then came back down. "I think we can go down the rail lane without it being obvious what we're doing. There isn't enough traffic to cause a problem."

Phineas leaned against the low wall, thinking. "So, the question becomes, did Ferb leave us that as an opening?"

"Or is it a trap?"

"Or is it a trap, right. And..." He sighed. "I don't know. I mean, he's my brother, and I think he's on our side. But..."

"So why group them that way? He must know I can take down pairs of them without too much difficulty." She looked over the edge again, nodding. "Okay. I think I see how we do this. Let's go." She led him down the fire escapes on the back of the building, coming down to the ground.

"So what's the plan?" he asked, following her down the alleyway.

"Just follow my lead," she said.

* * *

Ferb reached the roadblock again after a very fruitful discussion with the Canadian commander. The captain rushed up to him again, scowling. "Orders, Mr. Fletcher?" he asked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

Ferb smiled graciously at him. "Okay. The Canadians are fine for now. Your orders: keep up what you're doing. Your troops are authorized to use lethal force only in self-defense. Otherwise, DIMMERs and tasers only."

The captain nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yes. If the fugitives make it across the border, you are _not_ to pursue. They're important, but not worth committing an act of war over."

The captain breathed a small sigh of relief. "Thank God." He turned and started barking out orders to his men.

Ferb saw a flicker of movement atop a building that would provide a good vantage point, and smiled. _Good. Look at what I have set up, and what openings I've left for you._

* * *

Isabella clung to the top of the pipe and looked down at the end of the bridge. The pipe she was crawling along was about thirty feet above the ground. It came down a dozen yards behind the four soldiers at the end of the bridge, in between the rail lane to the left and the passenger car lanes to the right. The low wall between the rail land and the service lane should shield them from the soldiers patrolling the pedestrian walkway on the far left of the bridge. They just had to get past the soldiers without getting noticed. It'd be easiest if they did it soon, before the dawning sky brightened any more. Their biggest advantage was that people tended not to look up, but if they managed to draw attention, they'd be sitting ducks up here.

She could hear them talking, even without her hearing implants. They were grouped in two pairs, one by the end of the pedestrian walkway and the other by the end of the truck lane.

"This is bullshit," one of the soldiers by the pedestrian walkway said to her companion.

He shrugged, holding his taser ready. "Least the war is over. Would you rather get shot at?"

"I'd rather be in my bunk, sound asleep." She holstered her DIMMER pistol briefly to rub her arms, then drew it again.

Isabella crept along as quietly as she could. She was halfway across already.

A soft _*clunk*_ behind her made her wince. Phineas was being as quiet as he could, but he hadn't been trained in stealth the way she had. Fortunately, it didn't seem that the soldiers had noticed.

She continued along until she reached the point where the pipe turned downwards. A ladder to one side led down to the bridge so that they didn't have to try to get down the sloped pipe. She slid off onto the platform, crouching down as she waited for Phineas, following behind her more slowly. She smiled at him; he was really doing well at not making noise. She glanced down the bridge, and saw that the soldiers patrolling the pedestrian walkway were heading away from them, and would be for a few more minutes.

Looking back to this end of the bridge, she saw all the soldiers were looking away. She'd have to be almost silent, as the ladder came down just a few feet behind one pair and off to the side of another. She frowned; she'd thought it would come out slightly further back. Nothing to do for it now, unfortunately.

Moving slowly, she started down the ladder as Phineas approached the platform. Off in the distance, she heard the _*whop whop whop*_ of a helicopter approaching.

Halfway down the ladder, one of the soldiers below her yawned, stretching out her arms. Isabella paused and brought her implants up to full speed. Above her, she heard a slight _*clunk*_ as Phineas landed on the platform above. The other soldier turned with a puzzled look on her face, only to freeze in panic as she saw Isabella.

Isabella leapt the remaining fifteen feet down, tackling both soldiers to soften her fall. Quick blows ensured that neither would get up again for a few minutes, which was all she'd need. She rolled off of them, grabbing the DIMMER that one had dropped. The other two soldiers at the end of the bridge were just turning toward her as she fired off shots at each. The first went down, spasming from the shock, as the DIMMER round hit his neck before he could get his weapon to bear. The second managed to get one taser dart off before Isabella's shot hit her, splashing off of her body armor. Isabella sidestepped the incoming dart and fired again as the soldier reached up to grab her microphone. Isabella's second shot hit her leg just before she could reach it, and her hand closed on empty air as she fell.

Phineas whistled low as he reached the bottom of the ladder. "Nicely done."

"We are - were - the best." She grabbed a radio headset from one of the downed soldiers, putting it on. "Now let's run," she said, crouching below the wall between the rail lane and the service lane. She heard Phineas following behind.

* * *

Ferb picked up the radio as the general's helicopter approached the landing area. "No sign of them yet, General."

"Keep an eye out. I know they're going to...wait! There they are!"

Ferb turned toward the bridge. "I don't see them."

"They're in the center lane, they just took out the soldiers at the end of the bridge. Send in the troops!"

Ferb turned to the captain, who was already speaking into his headset. Four soldiers peeled off from the contingent searching vehicles and trotted toward the bridge.

 _Damn,_ Ferb thought. _If Archer hadn't shown up, they'd have made it cleanly._

Ferb had been trying not to do anything to obviously protect the fugitives, so that he could stay free if Phineas and Isabella got captured. He wasn't sure he could keep that up any longer. They'd made it so far, he'd hate it if they got caught because of him.

"Captain, let's grab that Humvee and join them."

The captain nodded and climbed into the passenger seat as Ferb took the driver's seat, and they took off toward the bridge. Behind them, the general's helicopter came in for a landing.

* * *

They trotted along as quickly as they could, trying not to show above the barrier so that the soldiers on the pedestrian walkway wouldn't notice them.

They'd gone about fifty yards, a quarter of the way to the border, when Isabella heard a radio bleep, followed by an unfamiliar voice. "Targets are in the rail line. Repeat, targets are in the rail line. Take 'em down, non-lethal force."

"Shit," she muttered, pulling out the pistol and peeking up over the barrier. The two soldiers were ahead of them, looking around, one with a DIMMER and one with a taser, both with rifles slung over their shoulders. The one with a DIMMER spotted her and pointed, and he started climbing over the fence separating the walkway from the service lane as his partner covered him. Isabella popped up with her DIMMER and fired. The one climbing over the fence dropped down on the service lane as his partner fired his taser at Isabella, twice.

Isabella grimaced as her implants slowed time down for her; her momentum was still carrying her up, so she couldn't dodge both darts. _This is going to hurt_ , she thought as she flicked her wrist and knocked one dart aside; its mate hit her in the arm, and she kicked in the pain dampeners as her body absorbed the shock. Her implants, temporarily overloaded, dropped her back to normal time as she saw the soldier who had fired go down twitching.

Phineas was coming up behind her. "Run," she said as she started to do the same. A DIMMER shot hit the pipe above them, and she sent her last DIMMER round at the soldier who had fired it; even if it didn't hit him, it should keep him down. The pistol was empty, so she dropped it.

They'd made it another fifty yards before another radio bleep. "This is General Archer," the frantic voice came over the pilfered headset. "Lethal force authorized. Stop them _now_!"

Isabella spared a second to look back. Her implants were almost back online, and she took in the scene behind her at a glance. Phineas was gasping, struggling to run. A Humvee was just entering the end of the rail lane; Ferb was driving it. The officer next to him was standing up, leaning over the windscreen, and pulling out a pistol, while the soldier in the service lane was shouldering his rifle.

Phineas tumbled to the ground, groaning and holding his leg. "Cramp," he whispered through clenched teeth. "Go. Be free. I'll be okay."

 _Less than a hundred yards. Ten seconds with boosts. The Humvee will have to stop for Phineas. I'll be a hard target to hit._

 _I can't leave him._

She turned and picked Phineas up in a bridal carry. "We'll go together," she said, pushing her implants to maximum as she swiveled and ran for the border.

 _Eighty yards._ She pushed the implants to their absolute maximum, her feet blurring as she ran faster than she ever had before.

 _Seventy yards._ She heard the Humvee coming up behind her. A DIMMER round hit flesh with a _*thump*_ just as the pistol fired. She couldn't spare the time to look back.

 _Sixty yards._ The Humvee got closer behind her. With a _*ping*_ a bullet ricocheted off the pipe, just behind her.

 _Fifty yards._ Agony through her left shoulder as a bullet tore through her. She clamped down on the pain as her implants worked to lessen the blood loss. She managed to not lose her grip on Phineas, but wasn't sure how.

 _Forty yards._ Momentum was carrying her along. Another shot hit the wall between the lanes. Phineas was just realizing that she'd been hit, and his eyes were widening. She could feel the blood running down her back, and more on her front. The bullet must have hit something major on the way through.

 _Thirty yards._ She could see the painted line on the road that marked the border, and the two Canadian soldiers crossing the service lane toward the rail lane. The Humvee was no more than fifty yards behind her. Another _*thump*_ behind her, and Phineas started to smile as he looked over her shoulder.

 _Twenty yards._ She braced for the next bullet, the one that would end her. Phineas could make it from here, at least. Her body would block the Humvee. The pain in her shoulder was leaking past what the implants could block. She was getting tunnel vision from blood loss.

 _Ten yards._ "You're all clear," Ferb's voice came over the radio. The tunnel was narrowing, and all she could see was the line ten yards away.

 _Clear._ She raced across the border, not so much setting Phineas down as dropping him onto his feet. She saw the Canadian soldiers reaching out to catch her before she fell. She stumbled forward, and the world went black.


	15. True North, Strong and Free

Phineas saw Isabella fall into the arms of one of the Canadian soldiers as Ferb stopped the Humvee just short of the border, climbed out, and stepped across. The officer sitting in the passenger seat drooled on himself, a bruise on his neck where Ferb's DIMMER round had hit him.

"That was a hell of a run," the soldier who had caught her said.

"We have them," the other soldier said into her microphone. "One is wounded, and we have American troops approaching."

"Sorry I couldn't get the other one before he hit her," Ferb said.

"Ambulance on its way," the soldier said, listening to the response from her report. "And the commander."

Phineas looked up, and saw General Archer marching down the service lane. Behind him, the remaining ten soldiers trotted along, their rifles ready.

A Canadian military truck drove up behind Phineas, from the Canadian side. A woman wearing captain's stars climbed out and talked quietly to Ferb. The soldier lowered Isabella to the ground as a military ambulance backed up along the rail lane. It came to a stop, and two EMTs leapt out of the back. The soldier stepped back as the EMTs knelt over her. One cut away her shirt, showing the bloody bullet hole briefly before they put a gauze pad on it.

Another EMT pulled a stretcher out of the ambulance, and they paused to load Isabella onto it. "Is she going to make it?" Phineas asked one of the EMTs.

"It's going to be close," she said brusquely. "Might have hit the axillary artery."

"Fletcher! Flynn!" General Archer said, and Phineas looked back at him. The soldiers behind him had readied their rifles as they walked up the bridge. "Bring the girl back across the line and nobody else has to get hurt."

"No, General," Ferb said, crossing his arms. Behind him, the Canadian captain spoke into her microphone.

"Do I need to send these folks across to get you? We've got your Canadian 'friends' a bit outnumbered."

"If you're going to commit an act of war, General," the captain said, stepping up next to Ferb, "I can't exactly stop you. But I can make damn sure you regret it, eh?"

Off to the side of the bridge, an attack helicopter flew over from the Canadian side. It hovered, kicking up spray from the river below, as its front-mounted cannon pointed directly at the general's chest.

The general stared at the helicopter for a long moment. Phineas limped over to stand on the other side of Ferb.

"Fine. This isn't over, Fletcher. I trusted you. You'll regret this," the general spat.

"No, General. I don't think I will," Ferb said calmly. "Goodbye."

* * *

Isabella woke to the inside of a hospital room. Her left shoulder had been bandaged, and her left arm was in a sling, but she wasn't otherwise restrained. She lifted her head to look around; nobody else was in the room. The sky outside the window was dark through the thin curtains.

She was wearing a hospital gown underneath the blankets, and an IV was feeding her a double dose of sugar solution. She could feel the slight crawling sensation that meant her implants were healing the wound underneath the bandages, and the sugar solution was keeping them happily powered-up.

 _Where am I?_

The door opened, and Phineas came in. "Hey! You're awake!" He leaned out the door, calling, "She's awake!" then came in and took her right hand. "We made it. You're in Fort Frances."

"What..." Her throat was dry, and the word rasped out of her. He picked up a pitcher of water from the table near her, pouring her a plastic cup full.

"Drink," he said, and she gladly drank as he talked. "You've been out for about twelve hours. The Canadians have asked for our help with research. In exchange for that, they're willing to provide asylum and protection from Archer's attempts to retrieve us. Because you know that he'll try."

She sighed sadly.

"But, there's two things. First, they want to do as little invasive work on you as possible. Ferb and I have been brainstorming ways to get data on your implants without surgery, and we think we have ideas."

"That..." She coughed, taking another sip of water. "That sounds pretty good."

"Second, they're going to look for volunteers for military usage, but they're really excited about the non-military applications."

She blinked, confused. "What?"

"Your implants. Think what they could do for people with disabilities. Katie wouldn't need hearing aids with your auditory implant. Enhanced neuro-implants could let someone like Adyson control her leg like it was flesh and blood. Your lung implants would be worth their weight in gold to someone with asthma or COPD."

She sat back, possibilities whirling. "I...I could help people?"

"You could save lives, Isabella. Ferb and I are hoping..."

Ferb came in through the partially-open door. "We're hoping to save more lives than we took with the tumbler bomb. And, ideally, we want to stop the next war."

"How?" Isabella asked.

"Two ways," Phineas said. "First, we need to nerf the tumbler bomb. We've got ideas for a shield that will stop the tumbling, and drop it into whatever other dimension it was in permanently. Neutralizing that will make people much more willing to take on America."

"Second," Ferb added, "by letting the Canadians and Mexicans know what's planned, talks have begun on an alliance. The Mexicans have applied to join the Canadian-European Mutual Defense Treaty."

Isabella nodded. "Which means that if Chicago goes either way, they're going to be fighting on both fronts."

"With Europe backstopping both enemies, their most frightening weapon neutralized, and their researchers dead or fled," Ferb said. "And the economy still trashed after eighteen years of war. Oh, Phineas, I just got word. Mum made it to England before the government thought to put a travel ban on her. She's safe with Candace."

"Good to hear," Phineas said, visibly relieved. "I hate to think what they'd do to her."

"Good to see you're doing better, Isabella," Ferb said. He paused, and said, "I'm sorry I caused this mess."

She smiled at him. "It worked out. Thanks for the assist at the end there. Just take out the guy with the gun a little faster next time, okay?"

"Agreed." He bowed to her, then left the room.

Phineas took the empty cup out of Isabella's hand. "More?"

She shook her head, and he sat down next to her, taking her hand. "You're a free woman now. Do...do you still want to be with me? It's completely your choice now, you know."

She squeezed his hand. "Yes. Just because you don't own me anymore doesn't mean I'm not still yours."

* * *

 **Thank you so much for following me on this journey. Your time and attention are a precious gift, and one I greatly appreciate. Special thanks to Sabrina06 for beta, EDD17SP for support, and MyronGreenleaf and Writersblock159 for insightful commentary.**

 **Overall thoughts on weekly chapters: I don't think it worked as I hoped. Daily seems too fast for something like this, but I have a hard time focusing on a new story while I'm in the middle of releasing one. I'll try something else next time, maybe 2 or 3 days per week.**

 **The sequel to this story is in progress, with a first draft that just passed 30,000 words. It is currently titled "Glorious and Free". I hope to answer some important questions that were raised:**

 **\- Who is responsible for the war in the first place?**

 **\- How did slavery become a thing?**

 **\- Why didn't Southwest go along with it?**

 **\- What happened in Los Angeles?**

 **\- Where's Baljeet?**

 **\- Will Ferb find a long-term relationship?**

 **\- Is it possible to survive in Canada when the nearest full-service Tim Hortons is 40km away?**


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